


Our True Selves

by caswell



Category: K (Anime), Persona 4
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Murder, The ships aren't overbearing so if you don't like one of the ships you should still be safe, mentions of abuse, they're mostly just hinted at
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a nice town, but Yashiro Isana doesn't expect his year in rural Inaba to be very eventful. It's probably the wrongest he's ever been in his life. [Persona 4/K Project crossover] (ABANDONED)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for clicking on this even though it's kind of an unconventional fic!  
> Like it says in the description, this essentially Persona 4 reimagined with K Project characters, meaning there are different Shadows, different Social Links, et cetera.  
> Updating irregularly due to school.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room."

Yashiro Isana opened his eyes into a world stained navy blue. There was an engine running, making the cushioned seat he's sitting on vibrate ever so slightly, and he realized he was in a limo- a fancy one, at that. It even had a minibar, which was useless to him because he's only 16, but whatever. _That's funny,_ he thought to himself, _I  could have sworn I was on a train._ His gaze finally fell upon the one who had just addressed him: a peculiar-looking old man hunched over a small table. He was pale and bald, with the biggest nose Shiro had ever seen; he definitely wasn't someone whose face you could forget. Seated next to him was a young woman with wavy silver hair, and- Shiro squinted- _Yellow eyes? That's weird._ "Who... _are_ you people?"

"My name is Igor," the old man said in a creaky voice. (Frankly, Shiro was surprised he didn't answer his question with some kind of riddle...) "I am delighted to meet your acquaintance." He gestured with one hand to their surroundings- the interior of the Velvet Room. "This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those who are bound by a 'contract' may enter."

 _A contract?_  Shiro thought, narrowing his eyes. _I never made a contract..._ He doesn't speak up, though, for fear that this Igor guy would kick him out, and... well, he didn't know what would happen then, but still. "Nice to meet you, too," he said finally. "My name is Yashiro Isana, but, uh, you can call me Shiro..."

"Yashiro... I see. Now, Yashiro, let's take a look into your future." Igor swiped a hand over the table at which he sat, and in a flash of blue life, a deck of what appeared to be tarot cards appeared before him; another motion, and the cards spread into a circle, with one lone card lying in the center. Shiro leaned in as Igor flipped one of them over, revealing a picture of a collapsing building, marked XVI.

 _Oh, that can't be a good sign._ Shiro looked up at Igor, a confused look on his face, and asked, "What's that mean?"

"The Tower," Igor explained, "means upheaval, in its upright position. It seems a terrible catastrophe is imminent."

Shiro tugged at his collar. _Oh yeah. Definitely not a good sign._ "A catastrophe, huh...?"

Ignoring him, Igor continued, flipping over another card, this one with a shimmering crescent moon labeled XVIII. "The moon in the upright position represents hesitation and mystery. ...Very interesting indeed," he said as he inspected the card. "It seems you will encounter a misfortune at your destination, and a great mystery will be imparted upon you."

 _A mystery? But I'm not a detective._ Shiro furrowed his brow for a moment, then, with a jolt, he realized he wasn't paying any attention to what Igor was saying now.

"...a contract of some sort, after which you will return here." It seems he didn't miss too much... after all, this Igor guy seemed to be pretty long-winded. "This is a turning point in your destiny... If the mystery goes unsolved, your future will be forever lost."

"F-forever lost?" Shiro squirmed, suddenly a bit nervous. "You mean I'll die?"

"Don't worry," Igor assured him. "My duty is to provide guidance to our guests so that does not happen." He swiped the cards off the table and into nothingness again, then, evidently remembering something, looked up at Shiro again. "Ah! I have neglected to introduce my assistant to you. This is Margaret, another resident of the Velvet Room."

"Hello, Shiro. My name is Margaret," the silver-haired lady said gently. "I'm here to accompany you through your journey."

Shiro tried to answer her, but all of a sudden he was becoming dizzy, like he was about to pass out. "Nice to.... meet you," he replied, smiling as best as he could. She was pretty, he noted, but her eyes freaked him out, so he averted his quite soon- easy enough, because it was now hard to keep his head up; he was drifting off to sleep again, it seemed, if he was ever awake.

Sounding to Shiro like he was miles away, Igor declared, "We shall attend to the details another time..." Black spots began to cloud Shiro's vision, and he only heard Igor faintly as he said, "Until then, farewell..."

Shiro opened his eyes just as the train pulled into the station. People streamed past him, trying to get off, and the sudden noise made him want to cover his ears and lay back down on the seat. Instead, however, he stood up and, with some difficulty, pulled his bags off the shelf and joined the crowd. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he made it out into the inside of the station. It was still noisy, of course, but there was far less pushing and shoving involved.

TVs covered the walls, displaying a commercial for some sort of diet soda.   _"...enough with going to the gym! Good thing there's something everyone can handle!"_ proclaimed a mature-looking teenage boy. His blue hair and glasses shone in the sun, and when he flipped his head, droplets of water sparkled in his hair... but then, it was over, and the monitors switched to the news. Shiro knew he had to go to catch his next train and meet the person waiting for him- _"Mikoto Suoh,"_ his mother had said, _"a family friend."-_ but it's always a good idea to watch the news, right? And so, he continued to stare up at the screens intently.

 _"And now,"_ the anchorman announced, _"it's time to talk about the juicy stuff: the Klaudia Weismann scandal. First he bags a senior, then he dates a young woman on the side? Do chicks_ really _dig politicians?"_

_"Isn't it just about money..."_

Disappointed with the news, Shiro turned away and sighed, deciding that he didn't really care about whatever scandal they were talking about. Besides, it was- he glanced at his watch- 12:25, and his train leaves at 12:30... As he rushed to get to the next train, Shiro can't help but think back to a half-remembered conversation.

 

_"Well, I'm sure you've all heard, but Isana-kun will be transferring to another school." Whines and complaints had filled the room as his old teacher broke the news. "Quiet down, guys, I'm not done yet..."_

Shiro's parents were going overseas for a whole year (God knows they wouldn't even write him a letter or two) so, as the teacher had said, he was transferring to Yasogami High in Inaba for his second year of high school. It was in the middle of nowhere, but, well, it sounded pretty, at least. He was to live, he'd been told, with his cousin Anna, and someone he'd never met before- the aforementioned Mikoto Suoh. It seemed that he was a good friend of Anna's aunt, and, after both her parents and her aunt passed away, he'd adopted her and was now her legal guardian. It was tragic, but Shiro couldn't help but think that he really lucked out being related to Anna's mother and not her father, so almost all the deaths were on the other side of the family. He shrugged that thought away, scolding himself for it.

His classmates were surprisingly distraught when they heard the news- in fact, his friend Kukuri made him lunch for the last day of school, which was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him... even if he didn't like that it was all vegetables. He assured them, though, that he'd be back for their third year. Despite all that... it was pretty easy to leave. A new town, a new beginning. Even though he had a lot of friends... kind of... Shiro couldn't help but feel like an outsider- not close with anyone, really, just friendly.

Inaba had promise.

In Inaba, everything would be different.

 

 _This isn't quite as fancy as the last station,_ Shiro observed as he stepped off the next train. He'd been so lost in thought that he fell asleep, and it was only when the announcement that the train had arrived at Yasoinaba Station played that he was roused from his slumber. There were, thank God, far fewer people getting off the train at this station than in the last, which he'd take over fancy electronics any day. Shiro heaved his bag over his shoulder and began to look for the exit.

Immediately as Shiro stepped outside, he noticed what a different town Inaba was from the city he came from. It looked decades behind the time, but not in a bad way, just... a way. The buildings, instead of cold, shining steel, were made of tan clay bricks, and were compact and low to the ground. Even though it was a cloudy day, it was pleasant- or so it seemed to Shiro. A thought tickled at the back of his mind, fragments of a discussion about tragedy and mystery, but before he could dwell on it, a voice cut into his thoughts.

"Hey. Over here."

Shiro turned his gaze from the distant landscape to the area just in front of the station. For the first time, he noticed the two figures waiting idly by a large grey car. They were quite an interesting pair- the man, who must have been the one who called out to him, bore a striking resemblance to a lion- tall and broad-shouldered with what could be compared to a mane of dark red hair. A small girl waited by silently, holding onto the his hand. She looked like a little doll- pale and pristine, with silky-looking white hair and a ruffly red dress that completed the image perfectly. The latter Shiro recognized as his cousin Anna, so the other one must be... "Suoh-san?"

The man nodded, and, as Shiro came hesitantly down the steps to join him, he added, "Drop the formalities. It's Mikoto."

 _But it's so_ weird _talking to someone like you so casually,_ Shiro protested in his head, though he said nothing. When he approached them, Anna detached herself from Mikoto and shuffled over to greet Shiro with a hug. "Hey, Anna, long time no see," he said with a beam, and rubbed her head for a moment before looking back up at Mikoto. "So, Suoh-sa- Mikoto, should we head back to your place?"

Mikoto nodded, then gestured with his head toward the grey car Shiro had seen before. "Car's over there. You can ride shotgun."

 

As he looked through the passenger side window, Shiro marveled at the quaint, sleepy little town, gazing attentively at the small buildings and friendly-looking people. Even though the sky was overcast and the air was chilly, people were walking up and down the streets, sometimes grouping off into groups of two or three to socialize. It was while Shiro was watching the scene that Mikoto pulled into the lot of a run-down gas station and came to a sudden stop, making Shiro slam into the seat belt across his chest. "Oh, ow, _jeez..."_ From the back seat, Anna leaned forward and wordlessly pat Shiro's head, then climbed out of the car. She mumbled something about going to the bathroom to Mikoto, who nodded as she departed.

As the girl left, she passed a grey-haired man of around 40- _isn't he a little too old to be a gas station attendant?_ Shiro thought to himself- who walked up to Suoh and said, with an amiable smile, "Welcome to Moel, sir. You going on a trip?" His lower face was dotted with stubble, and a cross hung around his neck.

Mikoto shook his head. "Nah, coming back from the train station. Kid over there is staying with us for a year." He nodded towards Shiro.

Shiro, who needed fresh air and was halfway out the car door, gave the worker a smile and a wave. "Heya."

The attendant waved back, but turned away and faced Mikoto again when he said, "Fill up the tank, will ya?" and dropped a few hundred yen in the other man's hand. After a moment of thought, he slipped out a cigarette from a box in his pocket and lit it, then stepped away from the pumps, leaving Shiro alone with the attendant.

Instead of getting started right away, the worker turned back to Shiro and asked, "Well then, are you a high schooler?"

Shiro scratched the back of his head. "Uh... yeah...?"

"'s pretty boring here for teens," the man continued, paying no mind to Shiro's mild discomfort. "Your best bet is getting a job, probably. Ah, speaking of- we're actually hiring right now."

"O-oh," Shiro mumbled awkwardly. Frankly, getting a job wasn't really what he had in mind for this year. "Um..."

Finally sensing Shiro's hesitancy, the man rubbed the back of his head and smiled apologetically. "I know, I know. Just give it some thought." He offered his hand, and Shiro took it-

And the world went hazy. Shiro's head felt both agonizingly painful and light as a feather, and, having come back from the bathroom, Anna rushed over to him. "Yashiro...? Are you okay?"

Shiro nodded, though he was really unsure of his condition, and looked for the worker- but he was gone, off doing his job on the other side of the car. "Yeah, I'm fine..." A few deep breaths, and he began to feel better... but he was still a bit concerned. "...I think." Anna leaned her head to the side and gave him a worried look, but never spoke up.

A few minutes later, the attendant had gone back inside after filling the tank, and Mikoto returned, back from his smoke break. "Is everything okay?" he asked, looking Shiro over with an acute gaze.

Shiro sighed and scratched his cheek. "Uh... I'm fine, I just feel lightheaded." Tiredly, he added, "Can we go home now? I think I need to take a rest..."

 

One nap later, Shiro sat at the small table in the living room of the Suoh residence. A spread of sushi was laid out in front of him, making his mouth water- he hadn't eaten anything but some okay-ish fried eggs for breakfast about 10 hours prior, and hunger was the only thing that existed for him right now. But, before he could dig in, Mikoto raised his can of beer and said, "Let's have a toast."

Despite Shiro's slight (though hidden) frustration, the three of them raised their drinks- orange juice for Anna, milk for Shiro, and a beer for Mikoto. In a couple of moments, Shiro's “uncle” spoke up again, asking him, “So, parents are working overseas?”

Shiro nodded and grabbed a piece of the sushi. “Germany. It sounds interesting; I hope they have time to look around…”

Mikoto gave him a surprisingly sympathetic look. “So you're stuck in a place like this? Pretty rough.” He took another drink, then added, “As long as you're here, you're one of us, so make yourself at home.”

“Yes, sir!” Shiro replied, grinning brightly at Mikoto's kindness.

Mikoto raised his eyebrows at Shiro's formality, then shrugged it off. “Anyway, let's eat.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the cell phone in his pocket went off with a shrill jingle. “... Damn, who's calling this late…?” he muttered, but answered it anyway. “Suoh speaking.” After listening to the person on the other end for a few seconds, he nodded stiffly. “I'm on my way.” He turned back to Shiro and Anna and sighed. “Gotta go, sorry. You can eat without me.”

Anna looked up at Mikoto with a bit of a dejected look in her eyes, but it appeared that she was used to it, because she recovered quickly, turning on the TV. the anchorwoman droned on about the weather- Shiro's first few days in Inaba were to be quite dreary and wet, it seemed- and Anna turned to face him. “Let's eat,” she said softly.

Shiro ate a few bites of his dinner before asking, “So… what does Mikoto-san do?”

“He's a detective,” Anna answered, not looking up from her meal. “He investigates things, like crime scenes.”

Shiro was about to make a surprised remark when the news caught his attention. _“And now for the local news. City council secretary Ichigen Miwa is under fire for an alleged relationship with a female reporter. His wife, Enka singer Misuzu Hiiragi, revealed to the station that she will likely pursue damages. All of announcer Klaudia Weismann's scheduled appearances will be cancelled until the allegations are resolved.”_

Anna, who had never been the type for drama- even spicy stuff about famous European reporters, announced, “This is boring.” With the press of a button, she switched to a different channel. This one was a commercial for what appeared to be a large department store. _“At Junes, every day is Customer Appreciation Day!”_ Anna smiled gently as a catchy jingle floated over the airwaves - _“Every day's great at your Junes!”_ She then eyed Shiro and asked, “...Are you going to eat?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Shiro dug in.

 

The futon squeaked under him as Shiro flopped onto it, exhausted despite having taken a nap just recently. He'd never been on a train ride that long in his life, and even though it was just him sitting for a few hours, it wore him out. Within a few minutes he drifted off to sleep…

...and woke up in a place like he'd never seen before. Thick fog surrounded him, obscuring his vision so he couldn't see more than two meters ahead. Beneath his feet was a road made of red tiles. Fog seeped up through the cracks, and Shiro shivered uneasily. _Is there nothing underneath?_ He looked up at the most in front of him and Steele's himself. There was nowhere to go but forward.

He had been walking uneventfully for a few minutes when a voice spoke up, sounding almost like a whisper in his ear. _“Do you seek the truth?”_

Shiro stiffened, immediately paralyzed with fear. “Wh… who’s there?” he asked timidly. When nobody answered, he began to walk again, warily proceeding forward and trying to avert the cracks. But soon enough, the voice was there again.

_“If it's the truth you desire, come and find me.”_

This time, Shiro was less afraid- though still quite terrified- and walked ever onwards, just trying to get out, until he came upon a strange-looking... well, one couldn't describe it in one word. It was square-shaped, with black and red squares radiating out from the center. It looked a little like an odd door, but when he leaned to one side, Shiro saw that there was nothing behind it, and no wall that it was fixed to- it was completely two-dimensional. “What… _is_ this?” he said aloud, to nobody in particular. As he moved closer, a strange feeling settled in him- a feeling that someone, not just anyone but someone _dangerous,_ lay ahead. Yet, something compelled him to lay his hand on the “door”.

The red and black… whatever it was began to spin, the squares opening up to reveal a dazzlingly bright light that consumed Shiro completely. _A portal,_ he noted, somewhere in the back of his mind- he'd been too surprised to really register it. A portal to a densely fogged landscape, more than the last place, only allowing him about a foot of sight ahead. The only thing he could make out was a shadowy figure enveloped in the fog ahead, and he knew somehow that it was the owner of the voice that he'd spoken to before.

 _“So… you are the one pursuing me.”_ it said. It laughed, and Shiro could practically taste the arrogance and derision. _“Try all you like.”_

In his hands, Shiro suddenly realized, was a long red umbrella, and he looked at it for a surprised moment before lowering his body into a defensive stance, wielding it like a sword. If this was what he had to protect himself with, well, it was better than nothing. But… how could he beat this thing? Taking a deep breath, Shiro bolted forward and swung the umbrella miraculously landing a blow on the figure.

 _“Hmm… it seems that you can see a little despite the fog…”_ it murmured, a hint of amusement in its voice. Shiro ran up again, hit it again, but it didn't seem hurt at all. To be fair, he was using a weapon, but the figure didn't even flinch. _“I see… indeed… this is very interesting information…”_ Again, Shiro desperately attacked the figure, still doing no damage. _“But… you will not catch me that easily… if what you seek is 'truth’, then your search will be even harder.”_

More thick white fog began to seep from the being, filling Shiro's lungs and blocking all vision. Shiro rushed forward with another time to attack, but his umbrella didn't connect to anything. Bewildered, he stared into the fog, trying to make out any sort of shape, but he couldn't see anything but cloudy white.

_“Everyone sees what they want to… and the fog only deepens.”_

Shiro swiped left and right with his umbrella, aimlessly, desperately, and again he hit nothing, just cut through the fog that was seemed suffocating. No, it _was_ suffocating… his head was light, and with a twinge of fear he realized he was losing consciousness.

 _“Will we meet again?”_ the mysterious being mused. _“In a place other than here…?”_ It laughed again, sending shivers up Shiro's spine. _“I look forward to it…”_

That was the last thing Shiro heard before he passed out, dropping his umbrella and falling gracelessly to the ground.


	2. The Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's something to think about- do making new friends and happening upon a gruesome crime scene balance each other out for a decent-ish day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay mild shippy stuff, finally!  
> That isn't to say, though, that it's going to be a major thing, it'll mostly only be talked about in side stories.  
> Anyway, this isn't a terribly eventful chapter, but I got to introduce the characters so it was fun to write all the same, hopefully it's fun to read!
> 
> EMETOPHOBIA TW near the end of the chapter, but nothing too detailed.

The next thing Shiro processed was a cacophony of songbirds chirping outside his window. Feeling as if he’d hardly rested, he frowned, not opening his eyes, and instead rolled over to face the wall. That is, until he heard a voice calling from downstairs.  _ “Breakfast is ready…”  _ Realizing suddenly how ravenous he was, Shiro quickly flung on his new school uniform and practically ran down the stairs, bypassing a shower.

As he reached the landing and peered into the kitchen, Shiro saw Anna diligently dishing up a meal of toast, eggs, and sausage. She didn’t notice him at first, but when he stepped into the room, she looked up and gave him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Yashiro. I’ve made breakfast…”

Shiro eyed the food as he sat down, then looked back up at his cousin. “Do you do the cooking?” Mikoto didn’t seem like a cook, but to make an 11 year old do it…

Anna nodded and took a seat across from Shiro. “I can’t cook anything complicated, but I can do this. Mikoto can’t cook, so I buy dinner.” She changed the subject quickly. “You start school today, right?”

Shiro bit into his toast and nodded, swallowing before replying fully. “Yeah, at Yasogami High…”

“My school’s on the way,” Anna said. “Shall we go together?”

_ So polite for someone so young,  _ Shiro marveled.  _ When I was her age, I wasn’t nearly that mild-mannered…  _ Remembering that he hadn’t answered, he quickly answered, “Sure, I need someone to show me the way anyway.”

 

_ Of course,  _ his first full day in Inaba was wet and dreary and overall miserable. Shiro shivered, clenching tight onto his umbrella as he splashed through puddles on the road. Glancing to Anna, he saw that she was totally unfazed.  _ Lucky… _

If Anna noticed his distress, she didn’t show it; instead, she simply stayed quiet until she reached the elementary school. At that point, she tugged Shiro’s sleeve and pointed ahead. “You go straight from here. My school’s over there…” She turned towards her own school, began to walk, then turned back over her shoulder and waved. “Have a good day.”

Despite the weather and his tiredness,Shiro grinned. “You too, Anna!” Once she was out of his sight, he looked onward to where Yasogami High waited. “This had better be a quick walk,” he murmured.

It was not. The rain came pouring down steadily, and even though he’d brought an umbrella, Shiro was chilled to the bone. Plus, his feet were soaked down to the socks from walking through the puddles that had formed. It was while he was internally whining about it that he heard hurried footsteps and looked up to see a boy around his age, with long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a stony look on his face.  _ The first person my age I’ve seen,  _ Shiro thought with a blush,  _ and he’s… really handsome. But with that scary expression…  _ He decided not to talk to him, instead letting the boy pass. “What a shame, I could’ve made a friend… maybe,” he said under his breath.

The black-haired boy stopped, seeming to have heard him, and Shiro froze. But after a brief moment, he kept walking, leaving Shiro far behind.

 

Chatter filled the classroom that was to be Shiro’s homeroom for the rest of the year- loud enough to overshadow the sound of rain hitting the windows. Shiro entered the room without a word and found himself a little bewildered at the class’ activity… it seemed like everyone had a friend or two already. Where would he fit in…?

For now he decided to loiter near the windows on the far wall until the bell rang. On the way there, though, he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between a couple of his new classmates. “Talk about bad luck,” a lazy-looking student said with a groan. “The homeroom teacher is Kokujoji, isn’t it?” Shiro stepped closer, curious as to what he had to say about this ‘Kokujoji’ person.

“Yeah, it’s that pain in the ass, alright,” his friend grumbled. “He’s so damn strict, how am I gonna get through a year of his long-ass lectures?”

Apparently unhappy with the negativity, a girl nearby spoke up, distracting the two boys from their woes. “Hey, I heard there’s gonna be a transfer student from the city in this class.” At the mention of himself, Shiro looked up, standing at attention, though the other students apparently didn’t see him. They all began to mumble among themselves, and Shiro focused completely on them, not noticing a conversation taking place just a few feet behind him.

“A transfer student, huh?” A slight, red-haired boy with a dark grey beanie said, turning to look around at the student behind him- a grumpy-looking but pretty boy with long, dark hair. The same one, in fact, that Shiro had seen just a few minutes ago. “Just like you, Kusoinu."

“I  _ told  _ you to stop calling me that,” the other boy grumbled.

The red-haired boy blinked and replied, “Jeez, fine, it’s just a nickname.” He turned the other way to face another friend. “What’s  _ with  _ him?”

This one, a skinny boy with dark, soft-looking hair and sharp glasses, shrugged apathetically. “To be fair, you insulted him to his face…”

The red-haired boy was about to protest, but before he could, the classroom door opened again, and in strode a man who couldn’t be anyone but the infamous Kokujoji. He was tall, with a domineering presence, and was quite possibly the oldest person Shiro had ever met, if looks didn’t deceive. He had long white hair and an impressive beard, giving him a powerful look. Shiro wouldn’t be surprised at all if he was as strict as the students said.

“Silence!” he called, and the whole room hushed and turned to look at him. “I’m Daikaku Kokujoji, your homeroom teacher from today forward.” He took a raspy breath before continuing. “First things first: the public displays of attention that are so popular lately will not be tolerated; they distract from learning. Secondly-” he gestured for Shiro to come to the front of the room- “we have a new transfer student.”Kokujoji stepped to the side as Shiro took his place in front of the blackboard.

“Uh… hi,” Shiro said sheepishly, then smiled in an attempt to break the ice. “My name is Yashiro Isana… but you can call me Shiro.” He bowed a bit, then glanced at Kokujoji expectantly. “Where should I…?”

“Yo, can the transfer student sit here?” the red-haired boy raised his hand and waved it a bit.

Kokujoji nodded, then, to Shiro, said, “Go on.”

Grateful that someone was taking interest in him, Shiro walked over to the desk by the red-haired boy and set down his bag before taking a seat. The red-haired boy leaned towards him and whispered, “That guy’s a pain, even if it doesn’t seem like it now.” With a little smile, he added, “But hey, at least you only have to deal with him for one year.”

As if the point needed to be driven home immediately, Kokujoji began what could only be described as the most boring lecture in human history.

At least Shiro got in the nap he needed.

 

Several horrifyingly long hours later, Shiro heard the best news of his life: “That’s all for today; normal lessons will begin tomorrow.” With a yawn, he stretched his back and arms, and was about to grab his bag and leave when the sound of static came from the overhead speakers, followed by a muffled voice.  _ “Attention, all teachers. Please report immediately to the Faculty Office for a brief staff meeting. All students must return to their classrooms and are not to leave the school until further notice.”  _ Kokujoji quickly looked around to check that everyone was accounted for, then left without a word.

Only a moment passed before a new sound could be heard: the eerie wail of police sirens. Shocked out of his fatigued state, Shiro straightened up and turned towards the windows to see if he could get a look, but… all there was was fog. “...Was it that foggy this morning?” he mumbled to himself.

As if they were reading his mind, one of the students who had approached the window said to his friend, “Can’t see a damn thing… the friggin’ fog comes every time it rains lately.”

“Yeah, what a pain in the ass,” his friend agreed with a sigh. “Oh! Did you hear? The paparazzi’s looking all over for that German announcer lady.”

“Klaudia Weismann? I heard some guys spotted her in the shopping district.”

The conversation became hushed, too quiet for Shiro to hear, and he turned away again until he heard one of the two boys exclaim, “Are you serious?” The boy sprinted over to the student in the row ahead of Shiro and awkwardly asked, “...H-hey, Fushimi-kun, mind if I ask ya something?”

The dark-haired boy- Fushimi, apparently- glanced up at his classmate, then back at his desk. “Alright.”

“Is it true that that announcer's staying at your family's inn?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Can't say,” he answered. “Customer confidentiality.” Something about his demeanor said he wouldn't answer even if he could, though. He turned back to the red-haired boy next to Shiro, who he'd been talking to. The rumor-loving student looked on dejectedly, then walked away again with a sigh.

Now that all of Fushimi’s attention was on focused on him again, the red-haired boy groaned. “How much longer is this gonna take!?”

“There's no telling,” Fushimi grumbled, blatantly bored out of his mind.

“Shoulda left before the announcement came on,” his friend said, and then snapped his fingers, a gleam in his eye. “Oh yeah! I just remembered! Did you try that thing I told you the other day?” At Fushimi's confused look, he added, “Y’know, that thing about rainy nights?”

“Ohh. Not yet, sorry,” Fushimi murmured, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

The other boy shrugged. “Eh, that's okay, next time maybe. It's just…” he leaned in, voice lowering to a whisper. “I heard a guy in the other class yell something like, 'My soulmate is Weismann, the announcer!’”

Before Fushimi could respond, the overhead speaker came on again, and for the second time that day, Shiro received some wonderful news.  _ “Attention all students. There has been an incident inside the school district. Police officers have been dispatched around the school zone. Please stay calm and contact your parents or guardians as soon as possible, and quickly leave the school grounds. Do not disturb the police officers. Head directly home.”  _ ...The good news was getting out finally not the 'incident’, of course. However, he was stopped from leaving yet again, because…

“Hey, new guy, you goin’ home by yourself?” His neighbor, the red-haired boy, leaned against Shiro’s desk. Fushimi eyed Shiro with a somewhat incredulous look from behind his friend. The redhead clearly didn't sense anything wrong with Fushimi because he continued, “Why don't you walk with us?”

With a delighted smile, Shiro nodded. “Of course! I'd love to! Oh, but… what're your names?”

The redhead laughed. “Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. I'm Yata, and this-” he gestured to Fushimi- “is Saruhiko Fushimi.” Fushimi nodded politely, but still seemed to have his guard up.

“Nice to meet you, Yata,” Shiro said. “Er, d’you have a first name?”

Yata stood there awkwardly for a second, then answered, “It's Misaki, but just call me Yata, okay?” 

“Ohhh. Okay,” Shiro agreed, understanding Yata's hesitancy. “Um, should we get going?” He looked towards the door, then back at Yata and Saruhiko. They didn't even get halfway there when there was  _ yet another  _ interruption. Shiro died a little inside- until he realized who it was, at least.

Standing in front of the trio was the boy from this morning- still looking as pretty as before, Shiro observed with a sly little smile- though instead of that frustrated look on his face, he now had a somewhat…  _ humiliated  _ expression, and he had something hidden behind his back… “Y-Yata? These headphones were very high quality, and they worked great with my MP3 player…”

Yata narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Oi, Kuroinu…”

“I-I apologize,” the black-haired boy stammered as he revealed what was behind his back: a pair of obnoxiously large white headphones, connected only by a few wires because of a crack in the band. 

Yata ripped the headphones from the other boy's hands and looked down at them for a silent moment. Then, his gaze traveled back to him, now glaring in a way that was actually incredibly intimidating for such a short guy. “Hey, the fuck did you do to my headphones!?”

“I swear it was an accident,” the black-haired boy said, not meeting Yata's eyes. “It was raining; I slipped and fell into my bag. I'll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Yata scowled and pushed the headphones hard into the other boy's chest. “You'd better,  _ Kuso _ inu.”

This time, the boy didn't protest at the insulting name, just took back the broken headphones. “I will,” he promised. Then, too soft for Yata to hear, he added, “...If I can.”

As he, Yata, and Saruhiko finally left the room, Shiro have the black-haired boy a sympathetic look but still said nothing.  _ Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow… _

 

The fog, thank God, had lifted since the last time Shiro looked outside- not completely, but enough for him to see where he was going. Shiro was learning more about Yata and Saruhiko- Yata loved skateboarding, it seemed, and Saruhiko consistently got some of the highest grades in the school- and he was getting quite into the conversation when a strange boy stepped out from beside the front gate. He was young, middle school-aged probably, and had messy, greyish hair with white clips in the locks that fringed his face. He looked to be focusing on Saruhiko.

“What d'you want?” Saruhiko asked, giving the middle schooler a bored look. “Do I know you?”

The middle schooler walked straight up to Saruhiko, meeting his aloof gaze from eight-ish inches below him. A dark metal rod dragged on the pavement behind him. “Oi, Saru, you bastard, don't you recognize me?”

Saruhiko blinked, looking rattled for half a second before glancing away in annoyance. “Seriously, are you  _ sure _ I know you?” he repeated. Yata, who stood at his side, looked to be more aggravated by the moment, but Saruhiko remained cool as ice. “If you're just going to be annoying, then get out of my way.”

That blunt remark seemed to set off the younger boy, and suddenly he whipped the rod out in front of him, wielding it like a weapon in his hands. Scattered gasps came from the small crowd that had gathered to watch their little spat. A rotten look crossed the boy's face, a mix of a pout and a death glare, and he hissed, “Remember me now?”

If Saruhiko was scared by the threat, he didn't show it. “You're one of the brats from the middle school, aren't you? What, are you stalking me now?” He narrowed his eyes. “That's certainly not pathetic at all.”

Shocked at Saruhiko's lack of response, the boy scowled, the knuckles of his clenched fist white against the black of the metal bar. “This is why we hated you, y’know. You never care about anything.” To be fair, part of the reason Saruhiko didn't give two shits was because of how laughably short the kid was.

Yata took a step forward, ready to punch the silver-haired asshole, but Saruhiko stuck out his hand to stop him, not taking his eyes off the middle schooler. “If I don't care about anything, why would you track me down at my new school and threaten me with…” He peered at the rod the other boy had in his hands. “...whatever that's supposed to be?” With an exasperated sigh, he finally turned away from the boy and turned back to Yata and Shiro. “Ignore the brat. Come on.” The two followed Saruhiko tentatively as he walked casually down the hill their school rested on, leaving without another word.

 

The first few minutes of their trek home was silent. Yata had a concerned look on his face the whole time, and only then did the strength of his bond with Saruhiko become apparent to Shiro. Yata knew what was going on with him- Saruhiko, who seemed so withdrawn and reluctant to get close to others… Shiro wasn't going to ask, it looked serious and a bit private, but the words seemed to come from his mouth against his will. “...What was  _ that  _ all about?”

Saruhiko sighed deeply and debated about whether or not to tell Shiro the details. Eventually, and somewhat hesitantly, he answered, “...In middle school, I was the cold rich kid who everyone hated. People like that need to direct their hatred  _ somewhere,  _ I suppose.” He pushed up his glasses. “Still, to see that they're resorting to violence now…”

“What a fuckin’ pain,” Yata muttered. “The hell was that guy's problem, anyway? If he comes again, I swear…” He trailed off, leaving his threat hanging.

“I-- I see,” Shiro said awkwardly. Truth be told, he was a little scared for Saruhiko, but the other boy clearly didn't feel the same way; nothing seemed to get under his skin, as if it was all boring to him. “I won't bother you about it again.” Saruhiko shrugged, but he didn't respond to him. Shiro dropped the subject.

“A--anyway,” Yata asked quickly, “why'd ya come to Inaba in the first place? It's kind of a boring place to live.”

“My parents are working in Germany,” Shiro replied. “They're scientists. It's pretty cool, actually, but I don't mind staying here. It looks like a nice place.”

“Well, to each their own,” Yata said, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “I guess it  _ is  _ a nice place, but there's nothing much to show other people. Oh, but there's the Fushimi Inn, the 'pride of Inaba’. Saru's family runs it!”

“It's just an old inn.” Saruhiko brushed off the compliment with a dull voice.

“Don't listen to him,” Yata insisted. “It's been in all sorts of magazines. It's amazing!”

“It's not that great,” Saruhiko grumbled. “But it brings in the money, and that's what people care about.” 

“I'm, ah… I'm sure it's very nice,” Shiro said timidly. Something about the inn… did Saruhiko not like it? But he didn't- couldn't- dwell on it long; Yata had begun talking again.

“Oh, hey, didja hear about the Fushimi Challenge?” Yata asked, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Uh, no, what's that?” Shiro blinked, confused, as Saruhiko hunched his shoulders and averted his gaze.

“Well, y’see, not everyone here knew Saruhiko in middle school, so they don't hate him for whatever stupid reasons they came up with. And-” he lowered his voice- “he's pretty cool, right? He's got this… sexy lone wolf thing goin’ for him.”

Shiro nodded. To be fair, Saruhiko  _ was  _ pretty damn attractive, if you could ignore the negative vibes he seemed to give off. “So?”

“It's kind of like a… a milestone,” Yata said. Saruhiko looked to be increasingly uncomfortable, as if he'd really loved to be swallowed by a black hole. “Girls do it all the time. Guys, too, sometimes. You ask him out, he says no, you laugh about it with your friends.”

Shiro furrowed his brow. “Er, that sounds kinda…”

“Creepy? Yeah. It is,” Saruhiko cut in.

Yata looked at him apologetically, then continued, “Anyway… Saru's really popular with at least some of the people at Yasogami, but he's never once had a girlfriend.”

“I don't  _ want  _ a girlfriend,” Saruhiko said with a sense of finality, and the other two fell silent for a moment. The dark-haired boy shot a glance at Yata, and there was something in his gaze that Shiro couldn't quite decode, something significant. Yata, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice.

The quietness was broken when Yata pointed further ahead down the street and asked, “Hey, what's going on over there?” A small group of people had congregated at the end of a side street, all talking softly to each other. As the students approached, Shiro could make out a bit of what they were saying.

“So that high schooler left early, and as he came down this street…”

“Wow. Who could imagine  _ that  _ hanging from an antenna?”

“I wanted to see it too…”

“Oh, you got here too late… The police and fire department took it down just a moment ago.”

“Well, I think it's terrifying. I can't believe a dead body showed up around here…”

“W-what did she just say!? A dead body?” Yata's eyes widened, and he took a step forward to hear more, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“... What're you doing here?” Mikoto asked as he walked up to the trio, eyeing them with disapproving look.

“A--ah, we're just passing by,” Shiro answered. While he hated to admit it, he was still a little intimidated by the man.

“Yeah, did something happen?” Yata chimed in, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Hm. Shoulda figured that'd happen,” Mikoto muttered, ignoring Yata's question. “Damn principal. Told him not to let the kids through here.”

Yata cocked his head, then turned to Shiro. “Hey, d'you know this guy?”

Shiro nodded. “He's my little cousin's legal guardian. Um, it's a long and kinda sad story.”

“I'm Detective Suoh,” Mikoto said shortly. “Hey, you kids should head home. Nothin’ to see here anyway.” 

Yata groaned in frustration, and the three of them were about to depart when a man rushed by them, dressed in a suit similar to Mikoto's. The man- tall and lean, with messy black hair and grey-blue eyes- bent over, and, as they all watched in disgust, threw up on the ground with a sickening  _ splat. _

Mikoto sighed and ran a hand through his red hair. “Hisui. How long are you going to act this immature? They'll send you back to the central office.”

The man- Hisui- wiped his mouth, then slowly straightened up to look at Mikoto. “My apologies,” he mumbled.

Mikoto frowned in mild contempt. “Go wash your face already. We're gonna go gather information.”

With a resigned look, Hisui trailed after Mikoto as he left, not acknowledging the three students. Yata watched them for a few moments, then turned to the others and asked, “Hey, y’think this is what the announcement was all about?”

Saruhiko nodded. “One would assume so. …Was it really hanging from the antenna?” he mumbled with a grimace.

Yata squirmed uncomfortably, and stared at the ground. “Hey, Saru…? How 'bout we go to Junes some other time?”

“Good idea,” Saruhiko said quietly. 

“Alright then,” Yata sighed, and looked over at Shiro. “We're gonna take off, 'kay? Starting tomorrow, let's do our best!” He flashed him a determined grin and laughed a little. “You're our pal now, right?”

Despite the morbid setting, Shiro smiled back, then nodded. “Yeah!” He was certainly excited to have made friends, but… he had a feeling things in Inaba were going to be pretty strange.

 

“I don't think Mikoto is coming home tonight,” Anna murmured. She and Shiro sat at the table im the living room, both looking down somberly at their drinks. Before Shiro could respond, a tone came from the switched-on TV, and he and Anna turned their heads to look.

_ “Our top story tonight,”  _ announced the anchorman,  _ “concerns a bizarre case in the small town of Inaba.” _

Shiro perked up at the mention. It must have been the thing they saw- rather, heard of- on the way home. It had to be, right?

_ “Around noon today, a woman was found dead near the Samegawa River,”  _ the man continued.  _ “The deceased has been identified as Klaudia Weismann, a 27-year-old announcer from Germany who had come to Japan to work at a local station.” _

Bile rose threateningly in Shiro's throat, and he swallowed sharply. “So it really  _ was  _ a dead body,” he whispered. Anna glanced over at him, intrigued, but didn't pry.

The news kept playing in the background, but Shiro was hardly paying attention.  _ “...have revealed that the body was found hanging from a large television antenna atop a local resident's roof. Authorities are uncertain as to why the body was in such a state.”  _ It appeared, too, that the police couldn't tell if it was a suicide or a murder. But… could a killer really be living in Inaba…?

The chilling atmosphere was abruptly dissolved by a familiar high-pitched voice.  _ “At Junes, every day is customer appreciation day! Coke see for yourself, and get in touch with our products!”  _ Anna hummed along to the jingle, and Shiro felt a tiny bit more at ease, for now. Still, shivers ran down his spine when he thought of the possibility of…well, he didn't want to go there. There was no way he'd be murdered here.  _...Right…? _


	3. Who's There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors fly in little towns, but this one turns out to be a little more bizarre than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one except I Fucking Love Tatara Totsuka okay. I love him. Oh, also, if you haven't read Stray Dog Story, please do; it's a short read and Kuroh and Tatara's (short) friendship is really cute.

If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that it wasn't raining the next morning as Shiro walked to school. Grey clouds covered the sky, showing no sign of the sun, but they weren't rainclouds. Shiro had always preferred sunshine over rain, so he took would he could get. He was too busy observing the weather that he didn't hear footsteps behind him, and he certainly didn't expect to be knocked to the ground, scraping the palms of his hands in the process. “Hey, what…?”

A grown cut Shiro off, and he looked back to see the black haired boy from yesterday rubbing his leg and cursing under his breath. When he noticed Shiro gazing at him, he looked away quickly and mumbled, “My apologies. My mind was somewhere else, and I wasn't looking where I was going.”

Shiro blinked. “Huh? ...O-oh, it's fine…” Embarrassingly enough, he was yet again distracted by the boy's features… which, jeez, he really shouldn't be focusing on. “Um, anyway, are you alright?”

The other boy nodded, brushed his long hair out of his face. “I'm fine. Don't pay me any mind.”

_ You don't  _ look  _ it,  _ Shiro thought to himself.  _ But if you say so... _ With a grunt, he pulled himself to his feet, then stuck out his hand. “C’mon, I'll help you up. I'm Shiro, by the way… y’know, the transfer student.”

The black-haired boy stared up at Shiro's dirty palm for a second, then looked him in the eyes. “I'm Kuroh Yatogami,” he replied as he took Shiro's outstretched hand.

Shiro grinned. *Nice to meet ya, Kuroh!” Quietly, he added, “But what a way to introduce yourself.”

Now standing, Kuroh frowned in embarrassment. “Like I said… I was distracted.” He picked up his bag as he began to walk again with Shiro at his side. They walked in silence a while before Kuroh asked, “Did you see the news about Klaudia Weismann?” He sighed, sounding almost anxious. “I wonder if it was a warning.”

_ What a strange thing to bring up to someone you just met… but then again, there's not much else to talk about.  _ “I guess it could be,” Shiro said softly. “But I sure hope it really is just an accident.”

“Believe me,” Kuroh muttered, “accidents don't look like that.” A moment after, he forgot their conversation completely as he looked down at his watch. “Enough of that… we're going to be late…!”

 

Besides the lecture that Kokujoji gave them when Shiro and Kuroh walked in late, the school day went considerably faster than the last. Who knew that doing copious amounts of homework could make time go so fast? (At least, compared to the droning lectures of a 70+ year old man.) Shiro was making to get up when a shadow fell over his desk, and he looked up to see his new friend. “Oh, hey, Kuroh!”

Kuroh gave him a gentle smile in response, then asked, “Are you getting used to Inaba?”

Shiro thought on it a moment. “Er… kind of.” He scratched the back of his head, uncertain. “It's kinda hard when stuff like…  _ that _ … happens first thing when you get here.”

Kuroh nodded in understanding. “It's normally better. The air is fresh, and… do you know the local delicacy?”

Shiro perked right up at the mention of food. “Local delicacy?” He shook his head and looked curiously at Kuroh. “No, what is it?”

“Grilled steak,” Kuroh announced. “It's hardly something special, but the town does have some good restaurants. …Would you like try it?”

With a beam, Shiro nodded vigorously. “Really? Y-yeah, that'd be great!”

“I should have just enough money to pay for both of us,” Kuroh said with a little smile of his own. “To make up for-”

“Make up for what?” a familiar voice rose above the din of the chattering students, and the two looked over in unison to see Yata staring at them, eyebrows raised. “No apology for me and my headphones, huh?”

Kuroh winced. “...Of course this would happen. Yata, I don't…”

Not paying any mind to Kuroh’s protests, Yata called to Saruhiko, who was packing up his bag. “Oi, Saru. How 'bout we get Kusoinu to treat us both to steak?”

Saruhiko met Yata's eyes, then looked back down at his bag. “Actually, I should be getting home,” he murmured. Without another word, he left, leaving the others with a vague feeling of confusion.

“Well… okay,” Yata mumbled, sounding concerned, but didn't stop his friend. Instead, he turned back to Kuroh and Shiro with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Let's get going, too.”

 

Tacky elevator music played over the loudspeakers as Shiro, Kuroh, and Yata found a table at the Junes food court. The enormous, busy department store seemed completely out of place in a quiet town like Inaba, but Shiro fit right in, being a (former?) city boy. He was looking around the rooftop, people-watching, when Kuroh set down a tray of-

“Hey, this isn't steak!” Yata blurted. He poked at the sushi with one of the chopsticks he'd been given. “What gives?”

Kuroh glowered at Yata. “I didn't have enough money for three steaks. If you hadn't barged in on our plans-”

“H-hey, calm down, guys,” Shiro interrupted, trying to prevent the two from making a scene. “I'm sure the sushi here is really good!”

“It'd  _ better  _ be.” Yata pouted, then stuck a piece in his mouth and chewed slowly. “...Kinda rubbery.”

“What's kinda rubbery?” A cheery voice came from behind them, and the three of them looked over to see a kind-looking blond in a Junes smock. “If there's a problem…”

“O-oh! Totsuka-san!” Yata exclaimed, embarrassed. “No, no, it's nothing…”

The boy, Totsuka, gave Yata a gentle smile. “I understand. The food here isn't very good.” He seemed friendly, but as Shiro looked closer, there appeared to be a weary look in his eyes, like something was bothering him underneath that warmth.

Kuroh shook his head. “No, everything's fine, don't worry.” Noticing Shiro's curiosity, he gestured to Totsuka and said, “Ah, Shiro, this is Tatara Totsuka. He's a third year at our school.”

Totsuka held up a peace sign and flashed Shiro a smile. “Hiya! You're Shiro Isana, right? The transfer student?” The tiredness seemed to be gone… maybe Shiro had just imagined it after all.

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, I just got here from the city the other day. Nice to meet you, Tatara!” He smiled in return, and for the first time since happening upon the crime scene yesterday, he felt comfortable.  _ Ah, he's a calming guy, isn't he? _

“Oh, sorry, guys. I should be getting g back to work,” Totsuka said with a sigh and a glance down at his watch. “See you at school tomorrow, okay? And Yata, say hi to Saru-kun for me!” Not waiting for a response, he waved and hurried off to the elevators.

Shiro turned back to his sushi, finally getting to eat. There was no conversation for a few minutes, but eventually he said, “That Tatara's a really nice guy, huh?”

Kuroh and Yata both nodded, which was the first time Shiro had seen them agree on something. “He's a member of the health committee, and he actually cares about his peers’ health instead of doing it to look good on his university application,” Kuroh said, admiration clear in his voice. “I was sent to school with a fever once, and he took care of me in the nurse's office when I was too faint to work.”

Shiro looked at him, puzzled.  _ Sent to school with a fever? …That seems a little strange.  _ He shrugged it off. Hesitantly, he said, “He seemed a little sad, though.”

Yata considered it for a little. “...Did he? Eh, I'm clueless, I guess.” He took a sip of the soda Kuroh had bought for him. “Too had he had to go back to work; I've got somethin’ that could cheer him up… maybe.” He lowered his usually boisterous voice and whispered, “You guys ever hear of the Midnight Channel?”

“No, but it sounds ridiculous,” Kuroh muttered.

Yata shushed him.  _ “Anyway,”  _ he said pointedly, “you're supposed to look at a switched-off TV at midnight on a rainy night, and you'll see your soulmate! How cool is that!?”

Kuroh rolled his eyes. “That's insane. Do you have no common sense?”

Shiro looked from Kuroh to Yata and back again. “W-well, even if it's not true, it sounds really cool, Yata.”

_ “Thank _ you!” Yata said, giving Kuroh a glare. “It's gonna rain tonight, so let's try it! I mean, it's worth a shot, right?”

Kuroh pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, let me get this straight. You haven't even tried this?” He sighed, shaking his head. “Why I listen to you, I'll never know.”

Yata huffed, offended. “Well, I've been busy!” he grumbled.

“Anyway,” Kuroh says, cutting the conversation short, “about that incident yesterday. Was it an accident, or…” he paused, not quite wanting to say what was on his mind. “... a murder?”

Stubbornly, Yata ignored Kuroh's attempt to change the subject. “Just try it out, okay? It can't hurt.”

Shiro nodded in agreement. “I'll do it, at least. I don't know this town well, so it's not like I have anything else to do.” Kuroh remained silent… but something told Shiro he was warming up to the idea.

 

By the time Shiro got home, it was pouring again. He almost complained, but then he realized that that means he can try out the Midnight Channel and see what all the fuss is about… “Hope my soulmate is someone cute,” he hummed as he stepped through the doorway. “Hey, Anna! Is Mikoto out again?”

Anna, who was seated at the table watching some TV show or another, nodded. “It's been busy,” she said. “Ah, but, I got food from Junes…” She pulled out a plastic bag from beside her and began to set its contents onto the small table.

“Ah, it's not sushi, is it?” Shiro asked, a little wary.

Anna gave him a curious look. “...No, it's not sushi.” Shiro breathed a sigh of relief.

Shiro walked over to the table, but in just a few moments, the two of them heard a car come to a stop in front of the house. They both peered over at the door, and eventually Mikoto walked through and tossed the suit jacket that had been flung over his shoulder onto the counter. “I'm here,” he announced, tiredness dripping from his voice. “...What a day.” Immediately, he crossed the room to the couch and collapsed unceremoniously onto it. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Anna shook her head. “...But I wish you'd have gotten home sooner.” She stood up from the table and joined Mikoto on the couch, curling up against him.  _ It would be a touching scene,  _ Shiro thought,  _ if Mikoto wasn't so exhausted, and Anna wasn't so somber… _

“Yashiro,” Mikoto said, and Shiro snapped back to attention. “Can you turn on the news?”

Shiro nodded and flipped the channel to the local news.  _ “Next, more details on the developing story on the incident in foggy Inaba.”  _ Shiro sighed.  _ What a great way to start the year. Not.  _ On the screen, the anchor continued.  _ “Announcer Klaudia Weismann's dead body was found hanging above a home in this isolated rural town. It is confirmed that Ms. Weismann had been involved in an affair with Ichigen Miwa, husband of Enka singer Misuzu Hiiragi. ...Was it a lovers’ quarrel?”  _ Shiro wondered silently what kind of awful person would kill someone for a reason like that… or in general, for that matter.  _ “The police plan to investigate this relationship and question any personnel involved with them. In addition, we bring you an exclusive interview with the local student who found Ms. Weismann’s body.” _

Mikoto scowled and mumbled, “How the hell’d they find him? He's a good kid, he shouldn't be mixed up in this shit.” 

Evidently the reporter didn't care about the boy's privacy or comfort.  _ “What went through your mind when you saw it? Could you tell she was dead? Did you see her face?” _

The camera cut to a shot of a young man wearing the Yasogami uniform. His face was blurred out and his voice was altered, but that blond hair and slender frame looked awfully familiar.  _ “Ahh… I…”  _

The boy didn't get a chance to answer before the interviewer started talking again.  _ “Don't you think it's scary that someone was killed on a foggy day?”  _ He pried more despite the boy's hesitancy, and Mikoto cursed under his breath.

_ “She was killed? The police said so?” _ The boy looked not quite distressed, but a bit confused.  _ “I didn't know about that.” _

The interviewer realized his folly and quickly backpedaled.  _ “Oh, err… did you see anyone suspicious around here?” _

_ “Not really,”  _ the interviewee answered.  _ “Um, shouldn't a detective be asking me these things?” _

The interviewer ignored him again, clearly not having the wherewithal to know he was possibly overstepping legal boundaries.  _ “We heard that you found it when you left school early. Did you have some personal business to take care of?” _

More than a bit perturbed by the obnoxious reporter, Shiro changed the channel. If that wasn't Totsuka, he didn't know who it could be, and such a friendly boy being bombarded with personal questions like that was off-putting. Coincidentally, the channel that Shiro had switched to randomly had a broadcast on about the situation as well.  _ “- a tragedy that occurred near the central shopping district. Many store owners are raising concerns about losing customers as a result.” _

Mikoto snorted in disdain. “They won't lose customers if they just stop talking like that.”

_ “It really is a bizarre case, isn't it?”  _ a man commented.  _ “I mean, hanging someone upside down from an antenna… I'd have to say it's a warning or sign from the culprit.” _

_ “Yes, by so far, no one has come forward to take credit for the crime,”  _ the announcer replied.

“We got a shit ton of prank calls, though,” Mikoto said with a resentful frown. “What a pain in the ass.” 

He _ sure doesn't censor himself, even around Anna,  _ Shiro mused.

_ “So the cause of death is still unknown? And they don't have a single suspect yet?”  _ the commentator said with a nasty voice.  _ “Taxpayer's funds are going to a police force who can't even figure out if this is an accident or a homicide!?” _

“It's only been one day, for Christ's sake!” Mikoto clicked his tongue. “As if they know a damn thing about what they're running their mouths about.”

Thankfully, the channel cut to commercials- the ever-present Junes one that Anna seemed to enjoy. Indeed, there was a bit of a smile on her face; she looked glad that something more light-hearted was on, and Shiro felt the same. “Mikoto,” she asked, “can we go to Junes sometime?”

The exhausted man only answered with a snore.

 

Midnight was fast approaching. Aside from the tapping of rain on the windows, the night was silent, lending the atmosphere an eerie feeling. As Shiro paced around in his room, the clock ticked on and on and on, closing in on 12 o’clock, and then…

The screen of Shiro's TV began to glow a dim yellow color, and static hissed from the speakers, making him jump in surprise. A picture faded into sight, a person, like the rumor said, but...this wasn't what he thought it would be like. This wasn't fun, it was just creepy; he didn't like this at all, and his stomach didn't either. Yet, despite his bad feelings, he walked closer to the TV.

The footage on the screen was flickering, interrupted by short periods of dizzying static. Still, Shiro could clearly make out a figure- a slender blond teen boy, thrashing around as if he was being attacked by some invisible entity. His eyes widened as he watched the macabre scene, and horror coursed through him as he realized who it was. “Is… is that…?”

_ “I am thou. Thou art I.” _

Before Shiro could finish his thought, a voice rang out in his head, and he clutched it in his hands, whining in pain. It wasn't his voice, it was a stranger, and his anxiety climbed higher as it continued. _“Thou art the one who opens the door.”_ Lightning flashed outside, punctuating Shiro's pained gasps.

And then, as quickly as it came, the voice and the headache it brought with it stopped, as if it had never happened. Shiro had fallen to the floor; now he timidly stood up and stared at the now-dark screen of his TV. He blinked, figured he'd had… a seizure of some kind, maybe, though he didn't know really anything about that. He was about to go to bed, but his curiosity overwhelmed him, and, without thinking, he leaned toward the TV and pressed his palm to the screen. At least, he tried to.

White ripples, like waves in a pond, spread out from around his wrist as Shiro's hand sunk into the screen, passing straight through the glass. He jerked back, making a sound between a squeak and a shout, and flexed his fingers, which seemed to be alright. After waiting a second, he dipped them back into the screen again, then his hand, then up to his elbow, and almost further when he felt a sharp tug. Shiro's body was pulled towards the TV, and, panicked, he thought,  _ I'm going to die here. I'm going to get sucked in and die in there, and they're never gonna find my body… _

Fortunately-  _ very  _ fortunately- Shiro's flailing legs hit the dresser that supported the TV, and, with a great strain, he heaved himself out, narrowly avoiding a (maybe) certain death. With a  _ crack _ , he fell back and banged his head against the edge of the table in the middle of the room. As he held his aching head once again, he heard another voice- thankfully, not one inside his head. 

“Are you okay, Yashiro?” Anna called from down the hall.

“Y-yeah,” Shiro assured her, and Anna's door shut again. To himself, he whispered, “...But what in the world was  _ that?” _


	4. Backside of the TV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity killed the cat--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Neko, hooray.  
> I made a (shitty) reference for her suit: [x](https://twitter.com/weisswrites/status/759921933622226945)

It seems as if Shiro has to watch his back in Inaba. He believes this because no matter what he's doing, one of his friends will catch him off guard, and he will squeak like a mouse. Case in point: as Shiro was walking to school the next morning, Yata forced his way under his umbrella without warning, or even a polite 'hello’. 

“A-ah, what're you doing?” Shiro stammered in surprise as the redhead scooted up next to him, squeezing in close to avoid getting soaked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Yata said, though he didn't sound very apologetic. “Gave my umbrella to Saru; he lost his. Gotta look out for him, y’know?” He grinned, as if he'd said something funny.

Shiro nodded, supposing he understood. “Uh… well… make yourself at home, I guess?”

Yata snickered for a moment, but his expression turned intense when he whispered, “So, did ya see it?”

“On the Midnight Channel?” Shiro asked. “Yeah, I saw it. … Freaky stuff.” He had half a mind to ask Yata if he could reach into the screen, too, but decided against it- after all, maybe he was just seeing things. And hearing them. And feeling them. But it probably wasn't real, right?

Yata gave him a thumbs up. “We'll talk about it later, okay? Maybe Kuroinu even pulled through and watched it too.” He tugged the sleeve of Shiro's shirt as he started to run ahead. “Now c’mon, hurry before the teacher kills us!”

 

By some miracle, Kokujoji didn't kill the two of them, though he did lecture them, as well as the rest of the class, on the importance of punctuality. But, seeing as they were still alive and kicking, Shiro and Yata considered it a victory. In fact, the day went by smoothly, and before he knew it, Shiro was reaching for his bag to leave- after talking to Kuroh and Yata, of course. He stopped short, though, when he heard a conversation between a couple of girls standing nearby.

“What's up with the body being hung upside-down? That's  _ so  _ freaky.”

“Is it supposed to be, like, mimicking an execution? It's messed up.”

“My sister said it was a third-year named Tatara who found the body.”

“Ah, Shiro.” Before he had time to process what the girl had said, Kuroh sat down beside him. “I was hoping I could tell you something. The person I saw on the TV last night, it looked like…” He sighed, and Shiro thought he looked almost nervous. “It looked like… No, I'll tell you later.”

Shiro cocked his head to the side, confused, but accepted it. “Er, alright,” he replied, then turned back to the two gossipping girls… but they were gone, along with any information they might have had. Instead, he saw Yata, who rushed over to him and Kuroh.

“Hey, guys, did you hear the rumor?” He had a worried look on his face, but he was clearly trying to hide it. “People are sayin’ that Tatara’s the one who found the body!*

“He wasn't at school today,” Kuroh said, “and Shiro, didn't you say he looked a little… 'off’ yesterday?”

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, a little out of it.”  _ So everyone's heard about it, huh?  _ “I hope he's okay…”

“He'd  _ better  _ be,” Yata mumbled. “Totsuka-san’s a good guy.” Their conversation was interrupted by the scraping of a chair against wood, and the three of them turned to see Saruhiko getting out of his seat and walking for the door, looking out of sorts. “Hey, Saru,” Yata called, “you helping in at the inn today too?”

Saruhiko glanced over to Yata with dull eyes and nodded. “It's busy,” he said simply. “I'll see you later.” With that, he left the room, while Yata watched him with an odd expression.

When Saruhiko had departed, Kuroh looked back towards Yata. “Is he okay?” he asked. “I wouldn't consider him a friend, but… I'm concerned.”

Yata squirmed uncomfortably at being put on the spot. “I dunno. Maybe?” It was a clear lie, but neither Kuroh nor Shiro pressed him further. Yata cleared his throat and said instead, “By the way, did you see…  _ it  _ last night, Kuroh?”

“Well… how about you?” Kuroh answered, deflecting the question.

Yata nodded excitedly. “Yeah! But it… wasn't who I was expecting it to be. He was skinny and blond, I know, but I couldn't make out much else.”

Kuroh narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “Was he wearing our uniform?” He leaned forward in his seat a little.

“Y-yeah, come to think of it, he was.” Yata's eyes widened. “Hang on, did we see the same guy!? What about you, Shiro?”

“Actually, yeah,” Shiro said with a mix of surprise and confusion. “What does that mean? Do we all have the same soulmate?”

“I wonder how that'd work,” Kuroh murmured. “...We could share him.”

Before Yata could retort and defend his, for lack of a better word, 'territory’, Shiro cut in. “Yeah, but… there's something else, too.”

Yata, temporarily pacified, exchanged a glance with Kuroh. “Something else? What d’ya mean?”

Shiro scratched his cheek, suddenly a bit hesitant.  _ Crap,  _ he moaned internally,  _ what if they think I'm crazy?  _ “Well, I got this really bad headache, and…” he softened his voice. “I heard someone talking in my head. 'I am thou, thou art I’, something like that.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Kuroh sighed. “You were probably just tired; it comes on late, after all.”

“No, I swear! I really heard it!” Shiro huffed. “And then, when I tried to touch the screen, my hand went in. I almost fell into the TV and died…”

The other two were silent for a beat until Yata burst into laughter. “Dude, that's crazy. There's no way that happened!” He clapped Shiro on the back. “Funny story, though. I like the part where you almost fell in headfirst.”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Shiro grumbled. “It's true! I'll show you!” He crossed his arms on his desk and rested his head on them. “Gimme a chance, okay?”

“I suppose we could go to Junes,” Kuroh said. “Weren't you looking to get a new TV, Yata?”

Yata nodded soberly. “Yeah, my little sister broke ours. But, hey, at least they don't bug me to watch cartoons with them anymore.”

“Sweet! Let's go, then!” Shiro stuck his tongue out at his friends. “And then you'll see that I'm right.”

 

Yata whistled. “Hey, pretty good selection they got here.” Indeed it was. The electronics section of Junes was expansive; TVs lined the wall, and the shelves held numerous phones and gaming consoles. Yata walked up to a large plasma screen TV and gasped in wide-eyed wonder. “Man, this is amazing! But… who could  _ afford _ this?”

Shiro, who had been watching him alongside Kuroh, shrugged. “I dunno. Rich people?” He scratched his head and thought for a second. “Saruhiko could probably buy it for you.”

Yata snorted in laughter. “Oh, yeah, sure. Lemme just hit him up and tell him to being the cash.” He looked intently at the screen, then beckoned Kuroh over. “Hey, Kuroinu, you wanna try touchin’ it?”

Shiro watched in frustration as Kuroh strode over to Yata and placed his hand on the screen alongside the redhead’s. Neither of them fell in, of course, and they both turned back to face Shiro. “Sorry to say it, but I think you were dreaming,” Kuroh said.

Yata took his hand off the screen and left to check out one of the other, hopefully less expensive TVs. “Yeah, sorry, Shiro. But hey, it's a good story to tell at a party.”

As Kuroh joined the redhead, Shiro puffed out his cheeks in frustration. “Real funny, guys,” he muttered. After a moment's hesitation, he approached the TV with an outstretched hand. He was half afraid that he  _ had  _ been dreaming the night before, that his hand would hit the screen and he'd look like a huge idiot- but his fingers dipped into soft nothingness, and the screen rippled as he pushed in up to his wrist, his elbow-

_ “Shiro!”  _ The sound of Kuroh's frantic voice startled him, but instead of jumping back, Shiro huddled closer to the TV-  _ dangerously  _ close. “Shiro, get out of there…!”

Yata soon followed, barging in between Kuroh and Shiro. “Holy sh-  _ what!?  _ Are you seriously telling me that's  _ real?”  _ He darted around, trying to look at it from all sides. “Your hand's not sticking out the other side of the TV…”

“Yeah, there's loads of room in here,” Shiro said, wiggling his fingers around in the empty space. He was now shoulder-deep in the TV, clearly not aware of the possible danger, or at least not as much as last night. “I bet I could fit my whole body in here…”

Kuroh gripped Shiro's other shoulder and tried to ground him. “Shiro, be careful!”

In the next moment, Yata, who was still flitting around, bumped into Kuroh, who tripped forward, pushing his hand into Shiro's shoulder so that he was thrust into the TV, arms flailing gracelessly. Shiro cried out, shouting,  _ “Wait!”,  _ but as an odd drowning sensation came over him, he realized it was too late. A chorus of panicked shouts could be heard as all three of them toppled into the screen, but nobody seemed to notice.

 

The breathless feeling only lasted a few seconds until they fell hard onto the ground. Shiro moaned as he rolled over off his back and pulled himself into a sitting position. “What the heck was that?” he murmured. His eyes were clenched shut in pain, but when he opened them, he saw… well, that was hard to say. They had landed in someplace Shiro had never seen before, or anything like it. The atmosphere was full of a sense fog, illuminated by some unnatural yellow light, and he coughed a little as it tickled his throat. From what he could make out, the place looked a little like a television studio; lights and cameras were fixed to steel structures in the corners of the platform they had landed on. With a grunt, Shiro stood up, back aching. “Is… everyone okay?”

A moan came from his left, and Shiro looked over to see Yata rubbing his back with a grimace. “Define 'okay,’” he whimpered. “How 'bout you, Kuroinu?”

On Shiro's other side, Kuroh nodded. “Well, I'm alive… I might need a massage later, though.” He got to his feet, standing beside Shiro, and finally looked around. “You know… I've only lived in Inaba for half a year, but I can say with near certainty that this is  _ not  _ in that town.”

“I'd have to agree,” Shiro murmured. “Kuroh, I don't think we're in Junes anymore.” There was only quiet for a moment or two as the three of them looked in silence at the surreal landscape, but Shiro broke it with a bewildered whisper. “... What should we do?”

“We need to get outta here, that's for sure, but…” Yata glanced about nervously. “Which way did we come in? Which way’s home?” A feeling of dread settled in all of their stomachs as he said quietly, “What if there's no exit?”

Kuroh shook his head, but he was clearly unsure when he replied, “That's impossible. That can't be.”

“I sure as hell hope you're right,” Yata said, and shivered at the thought of being lost in this weird place forever. “I… I want to go home, this place  _ really  _ freaks me out…”

Shiro nodded decisively. “Well… we all want to go home, so we  _ will _ get out of here. Right?” There was confidence behind his words- not too much, but his friend’s fear motivated him- now they  _ really _ had to get out, even if it's almost impossible. He sighed, thinking hard. “Let's… look around or something. I mean, it's better than just waiting around, right?”

Kuroh's eyes swept over the barren scenery. “I suppose we don't have any other choice.”

 

“...Are you sure you know where you're going?” Yata looked warily at Kuroh as the other boy led the way. “I don't know how you can see anything.”

Kuroh sighed deeply. “I never said I knew where I was going; I just volunteered to lead.” Regardless of leader, it seemed this place was near impossible to navigate. Fog hung heavily in the air, and the world seemed like a repetitive labyrinth- they'd climbed up flights of stairs, but how many? They'd walked for what seemed like hours, but how far were they from where they'd started?

Currently, the three boys were walking down a hall in what looked to be a building of some sort- a hotel, maybe, or an inn. Shiro vaguely wondered why there would be one in a television studio, but expecting this place to make sense was, of course, laughable. Because of the fog, it was almost right in front of him when he saw it: a black and red square-shaped… something-or-other floating in front of them. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he recognized it, but from where? Never mind that, what  _ was  _ this thing? “Hey, Kuroh, check this out.”

Kuroh, who had been bickering with Yata, turned around to face ahead and stopped dead. “Shiro, what  _ is  _ that?”

Yata leaned over to see from behind Kuroh, then walked closer to inspect it. “It looks like a portal… like, in a video game or something.” He stared at it for a long while, then said, “I vote we touch it.”

“Are you ki- we are  _ not  _ doing that!” Kuroh snapped in rightful frustration. “What happens if it leads somewhere dangerous?” 

Shiro cleared his throat, and Kuroh and Yata turned their attention to him again, postponing another argument. “Ah, Kuroh, maybe we should go with Yata on this one. What's the worst that could happen?”

“We could die,” Kuroh said flatly. “I don't trust the look of this thing.” However, after a minute of tense silence, Yata and Shiro both staring at him, he groaned and gave up. “Fine,  _ fine,  _ let's go. But if we die...”

“Yeah, it's on me,” Shiro said with a chuckle. He approached the “portal”- if it even was one, who knows- and stood beside Yata; a second later, Kuroh followed him. With a shared look of uncertainty, they pressed their palms to it. At once, the red and black squares that radiated from the center began to rotate- slow at first, then faster and faster, and a bright light engulfed the three boys.

 

They found themselves in a simple yet chilling room, barren of furniture except for a disheveled bed and a wooden chair that sat in the center of the room. That sickly yellow light trickled in from a large window and illuminated the wall and floor, where hundreds of identical posters were hung and strewn about, each of them presenting the same person, unidentifiable because of the face having been ripped off the paper.

The air was still for long minutes before Shiro said, “Well, we're not dead.” He grimaced uncomfortably as he looked around the morbid room. “But we're still as lost as before…”

A  _ snap  _ came from behind him, and Shiro turned to see Kuroh putting his phone back in his pocket. “No signal,” he informed them dully. “Little surprise there.”

“At least the fog's a little lighter here,” Yata noted as he began to walk around the room. “...But I kinda wish it wasn't.” His one showed the disgust and unsettlement the all felt; whatever this place was, it was much worse than the rest of that strange world.

“The further we go, it gets more and more…  _ disturbing,  _ to put it lightly,” Kuroh muttered. “This place just isn't right. Did you see the posters all around?”

Shiro looked at the chair, and his eyes travelled upwards to see a scarf tied in a loop, suspended from the ceiling by a rope. A shiver ran down his spine. “This… chair and rope, too,” he said slowly. “It's a little grim, isn't it…”

Before Shiro could go on, Yata shuddered and said, “Come on, let's go back where we came from…” Fear had crept into his voice, and the others had certainly felt it too. “Th-This wasn't an exit anyway, so let's just go, okay?” There was an open door on the opposite wall, and as Yata walked quickly toward it, the others followed.

They didn't get out quite so soon, though. “Hey, these posters… don't you feel like you've seen them before?” Shiro asked.

“Who the hell cares!?” Yata snapped. “C'mon, I'm sick of this place, and I feel sick on top of that.”

“Now that I think about it, me too,” Shiro said, putting a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. It didn't feel warm, but his body felt so, so heavy, and he felt dizzy and achy. “Y-You’re right, Yata, let's just get outta here…”

 

By no small miracle, Shiro, Kuroh, and Yata finally made it back to the location where they'd fallen in- not home, but still, someplace familiar.  “Thank the Gods we made it back here,” Kuroh said, mercifully less tense than before. “We're no closer to home, but at least…” He trailed off suddenly and whispered, “... What… what  _ is _ that?” He pointed into the fog, and Yata and Shiro both gasped at what they saw: a figure, bipedal but not humanoid, some sort of bulbous shape with stubby arms and legs. 

It stood about 50 yards from them, and its silhouette cut through the haze; as it stepped out of the fog, the boys took frightened steps backward until they saw what it really was. What came walking towards them was someone in some sort of  suit, some sort of pink animal, but it was odd-looking and hard to determine. With every step the person took, the suit made comical squeaking noises, furthering the ridiculousness.

Yata narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Uh… what're you? A dog or a rat or what?”

“Better question,” Shiro added, bemused, “ _ Who  _ are you?”

The person in the cat suit- a girl, judging by their voice- huffed a bit and retorted, “That's what  _ I  _ wanna know! Who are you people, neko?”

“Oh, so you can talk, huh?” Yata adopted a defensive stance despite the probable lack of danger. “What do you want from us? If you're gonna hurt us, I'm not afr-”

The girl hunkered down and pressed her paws to her head. “H-hey, stop it, neko!”

Shiro gave Yata a disapproving look, then turned back to the girl in the costume. “I'm sorry about my friend over there… What is this place, Miss?”

Seeming to relax a bit at the kind treatment Shiro was giving her, the girl straightened up again. “This place doesn't have a name. It's my home, neko.”

Kuroh, surprised and a bit concerned, finally spoke up. “You  _ live  _ here?”

The costumed girl didn't answer. Instead, she said, “You'd better leave, you guys. Someone's been throwing people in and it messes everything up, neko!”

“W-wait,” Shiro said hurriedly, “Throwing people in? What're you talking about?”

The stranger girl stamped her foot, making that obnoxious squeaking noise that contrasted her frustration. “I don't know who's doing it, but they need to stop. This is my home, neko!” she repeated.

“Hey, what's your problem!?” Yata demanded, his aggression clearly not quelled. “Who’re  _ you  _ to yell at  _ us  _ like that? You're just some weirdo in a costume!” He groaned in exasperation. “Who are you? Where are we?  _ What the hell is going on here!?” _

With a startled meow, the girl bolted to Shiro, cowering behind his back. “I already told you! A-anyway, you should all go back, neko…”

“So you want us to leave, correct?” Kuroh questioned the girl. “So do we! But in case you didn't notice, there's no exit!” All three of the others shrank away, intimidated even though he was only yelling at the girl.

“I'll let you out, okay, neko!?” 

Kuroh groaned. “For the last time, we don't know where-” He paused, blinked, registering what the girl said. “Wait, what?”

With another squeak, the girl stomped her foot again, and the boys were pushed aside by- “...Huh?” Shiro whispered. “What in the world…?” At the spot where they'd been standing, a stack of old, rabbit-eared TVs popped up, seemingly out of nowhere.

Yata jumped backwards and stared suspiciously at the TVs. “Where the hell did these come from!?” he demanded.

Yet again, the costumed girl ignored the question, just pushed him- as well as Kuroh and Shiro- towards the exit. “This is my home,” she said, sounding almost… threatened. “S-so, you should leave, neko…!” There came a shove, and then Shiro and the others were, for a second time, plummeting through nothingness.


	5. Heartbeat, Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death of a stranger? That's okay. Death of someone you've met? Well, that's a little bit more scarring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps plays in the distance*  
> I know Shiro only met Tatara for like five minutes but tell me this boy wouldn't mourn deeply for anyone he met and liked. Come on, he's a sweetheart.

Exiting the TV world was no less painful than entering it, but thankfully nobody was in the electronics department to see the three boys groaning and rubbing their asses, because that was pretty high on Shiro's list of “Things I Never Want to Have to Explain”. He shakily got to his feet and sighed, exhausted, then looked down at the others. “Everyone okay…?”

Yata, who was laying sprawled out on his back to Shiro's left, gave a low moan. “You ever experience something so weird,” he muttered, “you can only think 'What the fuck, and also my back hurts’? Yeah.” He propped himself up on his elbows, then rose to stand by Kuroh, who had silently stood up, and Shiro. “We back?”

Kuroh narrowed his eyes and looked around. “Judging by the TVs all around, the signs saying 'Junes’, and the awful elevator music, I'd say yes, Yata, we're back.” Yata proceeded to punch him in the shoulder, but Kuroh took no notice.

To confirm Kuroh's declaration, the loudspeakers came on with a soft crackle.  _ “Attention, shoppers.”  _ The voice echoed through the empty aisles.  _ “Our daily limited time sale will now begin at the side dish section on the first floor.”  _ The announcement went on, but the students stopped listening almost immediately. Naturally.

“Hey, wait a second. Doesn't that sale start pretty late in the day?” Yata asked, and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Shit, it's already 6:30…”

Shiro flinched at the news. “Crap, Anna's all alone!” He was about to say a quick goodbye and run out of the store, but something caught his eye. “Hang on. Those posters…” He pointed to a poster hung next to one of the TVs, a promotional sign for some singer. “It's the one from the room, look!”

Kuroh inspected the poster, and nodded after a few seconds. “You're right, Shiro. I didn't recognize her at first, but it's that Misuzu Hiiragi lady, isn't it?”

Yata, who was now looking at the poster too- after all, he'd been too frightened to get a good look at them in the TV world- asked, “Hey, that's that Miwa guy's wife, right? Y'know, the guy who banged the announcer?”

Shiro blinked, and an idea worked its way into his head. “Does that mean… the room we saw, could it have something to do with, y'know, the death?” He scratched his cheek, and a mix of nervousness and morbid curiosity came over him. “There was that noose, too. ...Creepy.”

Before he could say any more, Yata snapped, “Shiro, if you say one more thing like that, I'll kick your ass.” He didn't sound fully serious, but it shut Shiro up, since he didn't particularly want to die.

Still, the discovery bothered him. Could this be the mystery that Igor had spoken about? The thought stayed with him all the rushed way home.

 

To Shiro's surprise, Mikoto was off work when he arrived back at the house. He was sitting with Anna at their table, watching TV and waiting for their meals to be fully cooked, but when Shiro walked in, he greeted him, calling, “Hey, welcome home, kid.”

Shiro nodded in acknowledgement and sat down across from Anna, feeling more tired than even when he pulled two all-nighters in a row studying for entry exams. “Hi, guys,” he mumbled. Anna gave him a concerned look, but seemed to understand that he was overall okay and didn't open her mouth. The three of them sat there in silence for a long while before Mikoto sighed in frustration.

“Doubt you have,” he said to Shiro, “but have you heard anything about a boy named Tatara Totsuka?” Mikoto drummed his fingers on the hard surface of the table, and with a twinge of sympathy Shiro noticed a dull, distant look in the man’s eyes.

Shiro thought for a second, trying to work around his fatigue, then nodded. “I met him the other day at Junes… he wasn't at school today, though.” He twitched, suddenly anxious.  _ Did something happen to Totsuka? He was a big part of the investigation, after all…  _ Shiro tried to push the thought away, but, stubborn, it stuck.

Mikoto grimaced. “Ah. I see.” he sighed, rubbed his weary eyes. “We got a call earlier. ...He went missing.”

Shiro's heart sank, and he didn't say anything in response except for a whispered, “Oh, no…”

“Work just keeps piling up,” Mikoto muttered, annoyed, and said nothing more.

As if overhearing the conversation, the news anchor on the TV announced,  _ “And now, more on the case still casting a shadow over the foggy town of Inaba…”  _ All three of them looked up towards the screen, each at full attention.  _ “Not long ago, German-born television announcer Klaudia Weismann was found dead in the small town. Up until now, her whereabouts prior to her death had been unknown. But, the police investigation has found that she had been staying at the region's famous Fushimi Inn.” _

“Fushimi Inn…?” Shiro echoed quietly.  _ Saruhiko’s family's inn?  _ Again, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety.  _ That guy's pretty cold, but he couldn't be involved with this, could he?  _ He shook his head, dismissing the doubt. If Saruhiko had Yata's trust, then that was good enough for him, at least for now.

Another announcer was speaking now, giving his two cents, though none of the three at the table seemed to care much about the opinion side of the story.  _ “Perhaps she needed a vacation to recover from her ordeal…?” _

_“Oh yes, the Fushimi Inn. Their hot springs are first rate._ _The managers’ teenage son also works there, and it's rumored that he'll take over the inn this spring.” Another man spoke up on the ignored TV,_ voice filled with strange wonder. _“If that happens, he'll be one of the youngest managers on record. I should book another trip there!”_

The other announcer, clearly a small bit bewildered by the man's tangent, cleared his throat and said,  _ “M-moving along… it's time for the weather report.” _

Shiro bit back a groan as he heard the forecast: heavy fog with reduced visibility- plus, it'd probably be raining the next day.  _ Mikoto, Anna, why couldn't you live somewhere that doesn't have such crappy weather…? _

 

To absolutely nobody's surprise, the landscape was slick with water from the pouring rain. Shiro really did groan this time, sighing before turning away from the window and heading downstairs, arriving just in time to see Mikoto exit through the front door as Anna him.

“Mikoto got a call, so he has to leave early,” the girl said, looking to Shiro. There was a hint of worry in her voice. ...There was a hint of worry in Shiro's heart, too.

 

“When I looked, I saw three police cars looking by.”

Shiro stopped in his tracks. 

“You live by a police station, right? Did you hear anything?”

He shivered, partly from the cold, partly from the schoolgirls’ conversation.

“I heard some yelling, but nothing more. Total disappointment.”

Rain bombarded Shiro's umbrella, but he hardly registered the noise.

“Jeez, you need to pay more attention to stuff like that. How else are we supposed to get the juicy stories?”

Sirens cut through the air. Shiro buried to school.

 

The gym was packed with a stifling amount of people as Shiro, Kuroh, and Yata squeezed in though the door. The announcement for all the students to gather there had given Shiro a crushing sense of dread, and he was scared to go; Kuroh and Yata looked wary as well, which didn't help. Silently, the three of them made their way to the front of the large room, just in front of the small stage, where the principal was already standing at the podium. A hush fell over the crowd of students as he began to speak somberly.

“I… regret to say that we have a terrible announcement for all of you. One of our third year students, Mr. Tatara Totsuka…” Shiro trembled, eyes widening, and he swallowed sharply. “... has passed away.”

“Passed away…?” Yata mumbled, his quiet voice shaking. On Shiro's other side, Kuroh grit his teeth and cursed under his breath as the principal went on.

“Mr. Totsuka was found deceased early this morning. The reasons behind his passing are currently under investigation by the police.” He droned on and on, but Shiro, feeling distant from his body somehow, only caught bits and pieces. “And… cooperation, I ask you… only the facts…” The murmurs of gossiping students was overwhelming, and the half-heard plea for honesty and objectivity fell on deaf ears.

“Passed away,” Yata repeated. “How did… how did that happen?” Tears welled in his eyes, but as Shiro and Kuroh looked over at him, he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Totsuka-san…”

Kuroh said nothing, but his fists were clenching and unclenching by his sides. Shock and anger seemed to radiate off of him.

And then it ended. They were dismissed.

Shiro was left wondering what the hell kind of world this was.

 

“He died in the same way as that announcer, right? That's so creepy…”

“Well, last time, it was from an antenna, but this time he was hanging from a telephone pole. It's gotta be serial murder case.”

“Someone said the cause of death was some unknown poison.”

“Unknown? C'mon, this isn't some sci-fi drama. ...Oh, by the way, did you hear? Someone saw a boy that looked like Totsuka on that Midnight Channel thing. They said he totally looked like he was in pain. Isn't that scary?”

“Sounds like someone had a nightmare. The media's been broadcasting that interview with him nonstop, so maybe they just had Totsuka on the brain.”

Yata stared after the chattering girls as they strolled down the hall, seeming like they didn't have a care in the world. His breathing was shaky, and there was a strange look in his eyes; he looked furious and sad at the same time, but mostly he just looked numb. “...They don't know what they're talking about,” he muttered to Shiro. “Easy to say that shit when they don’t know anything about what really happened.” Shiro considered putting a hand on Yata’s shoulder, but figured it might not be a good idea given that the boy seemed to be, in part, seething in anger.

There came the sound of heavy footsteps from behind them, and when Shiro and Yata turned, they saw Kuroh walking towards them, eyes fixed straight ahead. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in years, but there was a determined sense to them, too. “Did you two watch the Midnight Channel last night?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff,” Yata pouted.

“Listen for a second, Yata,” Kuroh snapped back. “Something is bothering me. Shiro, you were right when you said he looked strange the other day. …I watched the Midnight Channel again.” He didn't continue for a few moments, but eventually he sighed and began to speak again. “There's no doubt about it; the boy was Tatara. And he looked like he was- he was writhing in pain.”

Yata flinched at the thought. “Kuroinu… what're you getting at?”

“What I mean to say is… he died in the same way as Klaudia Weismann, correct?” Kuroh asked, and Shiro and Yata nodded, both of them listening intently. “Yata, I overheard you talking about her with Fushimi, saying a boy from another class had seen her on the Midnight Channel.”

Yata thought for a bit, trying to remember, then nodded. “Ah, yeah, that's right.”

“Wait a sec,” Shiro butt in, finally putting the pieces together. “That means Ms. Weismann must've been on the Midnight Channel before she died, too, right?”

Starting to understand as well, Yata scratched his head. “Okay, that makes sense, but what's it all mean?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized the entailment. “Hang on. So people who're on the Midnight Channel get killed? That's… that's fucked up. That's fucked up, Kuroinu.”

Instead of reprimanding Yata for his language, Kuroh exhaled slowly and said, “I don't know if it's true. It's just a theory.” He clicked his tongue. “...If there's some way to apprehend the killer, we have to investigate it.”

“I can agree with ya there,” Yata said. The fury Shiro had sensed earlier still lingered, and it slipped into his voice again as he growled, “Son of a bitch is gonna pay for doin’ something like that to Totsuka-san.”

Shiro glanced at Yata, thankful that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of that wrath. “A-anyway… that cat girl said people have been thrown down there, right? And the Misuzu Hiiragi posters…” Amazed, he looked wide-eyed up at Kuroh. “Wow, Kuroh, you're really onto something here!”

“So we gotta go into the TV again, right?” Yata asked excitedly. His hands were balled into fists, as if he was ready to punch someone right then and there. “C'mon then, what're we waiting for?”

Shiro reached out and grabbed Yata's arm before he could run out of the school. “Wait, Yata, we should think through this a little more…” It wasn't as if he didn't want to solve the mystery, but he also didn't want to die at the tender young age of 16, and something told him the TV world wasn't a particularly safe place. “Kuroh, talk some sense into him, would you?”

“While I agree that it would be good for Yata to calm down-” Yata turned his glare to Kuroh- “we don't want to allow the killer time to strike again.” He looked Shiro in the eye with an intense gaze that made him a bit nervous. Flustered, but nervous. “This isn't a time for hesitation, Shiro.”

At this point, it was two against one. Looking from Kuroh to Yata and back again, Shiro sighed and admitted defeat. “Alright, fine. ...But if any of us get hurt, it's not my fault.”

 

It was a sight to behold, Kuroh with a rope around his waist, wielding a cheap golf club. Behold, or just make fun of. The money to buy his meager supplies had come out of Yata's wallet, which he was less than thrilled about-  _ “You still owe me for my skateboard, for fuck’s sake!”-  _ but it didn't look like it cost too much, thank God. ...Although, it didn't really look like it would be much protection, either. Shiro groaned internally.

“Now, if we enter from the same TV as last time, there's a good chance that that cat will be there and help us exit again,” Kuroh explained as the three of them walked into the electronics department. “And if I'm incorrect, that's where the rope comes in.” He came to a stop in front of the TV and handed the rope to a surprised Yata. “Hold onto this and wait here. Two tugs means we need to be pulled out.”

“Wait, what!?” Yata sputtered. “How come you guys get to go but I don't?” He pointed at Shiro and added, “He didn't even wanna come! Totsuka-san was my friend, you have to let me help…!”

Kuroh frowned. “Only Shiro can get into the TV by himself, and, to be frank, we need someone a little less hot-headed than you right now.” His bluntness earned him a scalding look from Yata, but he brushed it off. “Besides, this is an exploratory trip. It's not as if we'll solve the entire case today.”

After a bit of consideration, Yata averted his gaze and grumbled, “Fine, see if I care. But when it gets to be the real deal-”

“We'll let you come along, don't worry yourself too much.” Kuroh turned dismissively away from Yata and towards Shiro. “The golf club is for you,” he said, and handed the “weapon” to the other boy. “It's too dangerous to go empty-handed.”

Shiro tilted his head, then looked down at the club. “But what about you? Don't you need a weapon? I don't want you getting hurt, Kuroh.”

Kuroh shook his head. “I'm more experienced than you may think I am,” he said, and left it at that.

_ Hand-to-hand combat?  _ Shiro thought to himself. He shrugged, accepting Kuroh's explanation- he did seem to be a tough guy, after all- and gestured towards the TV. “...Should we go?” He was still a little scared, but with Kuroh he'd probably be okay. ... Emphasis on the 'probably’.

Kuroh nodded decisively. “We shouldn't waste any more time- this the second death this week.” His apparent lack of fear soothed Shiro's nerves a bit. “Shiro, are you ready?”

Shiro nodded at him, becoming more determined by the second. He placed his palm on the screen and felt it sink in as if it was liquid, then looked back at Yata. “See you later,” he said with a smile, “and thanks a bunch!”

As Kuroh and Shiro embarked on their otherworldly exploration, Yata gave a half-hearted wave and muttered, “Yeah, have fun in there.”

The screen solidified behind them, and with a soft  _ slap _ , the severed rope fell to the floor.


	6. Reach Out to the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Inner potential' has never been so literal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... probably my least favorite chapter so far, BUT that's because I don't have much experience writing battle scenes, but practice makes perfect. So. Hopefully others enjoy ;;'

The advance knowledge that they would be plummeting to the the cold, hard ground didn't make it much better for Shiro's and Kuroh's backs. Shiro had a feeling that if he didn't get a massage pretty soon, he'd probably drop dead.  _ Saruhiko helps at the inn… I wonder if he knows how to give them, _ he thought absently as he arched his back. He flinched as he heard a small  _ crack,  _ but he was able to stand up beside Kuroh.

“So it  _ is  _ connected place to place,” the taller boy murmured. “That means my theory was correct… and thank God.” Indeed, they'd landed in the same place as before, that chilling stage. It was both relieving- now they knew more about the TV world, and were less completely lost- and unsettling- the place was, as previously established, creepy as hell. Kuroh surveyed his surroundings and was about to walk off to go hunt for answers, but a familiar voice spoke up from the other side of the studio.

“You're back? What're you doing here again, neko?” The boys turned around to see the odd girl in the costume looking at them curiously. “I told you, this is my home, neko…” Her suit squeaked as she walked up to them, somewhat tentatively. “Are you guys the ones who’re throwing people in, neko?”

“Oh, the girl from last time… Hi, Miss,” Shiro said, unaffected by the baseless accusation.

Kuroh shot him a look that screamed,  _ Thank you, Captain Obvious,  _ then turned to the girl. “What're you saying? Of course we're not throwing anyone in here!” His hands twitched, threatening to curl into fists “You just met us anyhow. I swear…”

“Well, you're the most suspicious people here, neko!” the girl fought back. With a more somber tone, she added, “Whoever's doing it, it's messing everything up, so they gotta stop, neko…” Something in her voice seemed almost lonely, and Shiro nearly stepped forward to comfort her, but she turned away before he could. “This is the second time you've come in here, and I don't think you're getting pushed in, so I know you can do it if you want, neko.”

“We really didn't… please believe us; we wouldn't do that,” Shiro pleaded, then blinked. “Wait, throwing people in? So Totsuka and that announcer were thrown in here?”

Kuroh nodded. *That could very well be. After all, if someone was trapped in here, they'd surely die.” He grimaced at the thought- whatever dangers this place held, the prospect of starving to death was much less appealing. “Is it possible that somebody's been throwing people in here to kill them?”

The girl stomped her foot and meowed in frustration, making the two boys back away a bit. “Why’re you guys down here, anyway, neko!?” she demanded. “You can't get out on your own, remember? I had to let you out, neko.”

“Well, this time we have a lifeline,” Kuroh announced, seemingly proud of his forethought. “We don't need your hel-” He held up the end limp rope that laid on the ground, connected to nothing. “...What.”

Shiro swallowed anxiously as he peered at the rope. “Oh. Oh, no.” He looked back at the cat girl and gave an apologetic smile, scratching his cheek awkwardly. “Do you… D'you mind letting us out again when we're done investigating?” He chuckled nervously.

“I wanna investigate too, neko!” the girl grumbled. “Everything's getting weird. This is my home, but now people are coming here whenever they want, neko.” She raised her voice again, crying, “If you're not the ones throwing people in, then prove it, neko!”

Kuroh gave a long, exasperated sigh. “Listen, that's not how it works…”

“So you  _ did  _ do it, neko!” The girl's voice wavered, as if she felt threatened- which, really, was understandable. “If you don't have proof, then-”

Kuroh’d had enough. Well, he'd had enough for a while, but this time he'd absolutely, definitely, 100% had enough, which was a scary thing indeed. “Listen when you're spoken to, young lady!” he snapped as he stepped toward the costumed girl, towering over her. “Now answer our questions, cat. Every time the fog appears in this town, people die! Can't you see how serious this is?”

Now frightened out of her wits, the girl whimpered and eased away, but regained her composure when she thought about what Kuroh had said. “...Dying when the fog appears, neko?” She contemplated this for a second. “I think I get it now, neko…”

“Ah… get what?” Shiro asked gently before Kuroh could tell at the girl any more. “I'd like to hear your theory.”

“Well… when it's foggy on your side, then it gets clear here. And when it's clear here-” She jumped suddenly, stretching her stubby arms as far as they could go in a bizarre mimicry of a hostile animal.  _ “Bam!  _ The Shadows get really mean, neko!” The girl peered at the two boys, and if they could see it, she'd probably be giving them a wary look. “But I know you two did it, so what's with all the questions, neko?”

“You know, you should try listening to us instead of accusing us of murder,” Kuroh growled, face taking on a menacing expression that really didn't help his case. “We've told you a thousand times!”

The costumed girl squeaked at Shiro's tone. “I'm just saying… you two might be the culprits, neko,” she mumbled, demeanor changing in an instant.

Kuroh sighed, observing her fearfulness almost guiltily, and backed down. “Fine, fine. But if you accuse us one more time without listening to reason-”

“Kuroh,” Shiro whispered as he placed a hand on the taller boy's shoulder, “she's not doing any harm, okay? Take it easy.” He gave a little smile, and Kuroh's cheeks turned pink for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly. To the girl, Shiro added, “Will you tell us where this place is? It looks like a studio; is something being filmed here?” He thought back to the Midnight Channel, to Tatara squirming in pain as people watched in the dead of night. “Like… are people filming that weird show here?” When she didn't answer, instead cocking her head in confusion, he continued, “Does someone film the people who are thrown in here?”

“I dunno… this world has only ever been like this, neko,” the girl said, sounding a little sad to be of no help. “No one's ever done that filming thing here, neko.”

“And what exactly do you mean by 'this’?” Kuroh questioned. His voice was softer now, but it still had a firm quality to it, unable to be taken lightly.

The girl scratched her- rather, the costume’s- head. “This is… this! Only me and the Shadows are here, I told you, neko.”

Shiro moaned, becoming frustrated slowly but surely with the situation he'd been thrust into. “We don't know what Shadows are, though. Or what  _ you  _ are, for that matter.” Under his breath, he added, “..She could even be the culprit.”

“Shiro's right,” Kuroh said, and walked up to the girl, who trembled a bit. “With that ridiculous outfit, we don't even know what your face…” Gripping the head of the suit, Kuroh pulled and pulled until it popped off, revealing… emptiness. “...looks… like.”

Kuroh and Shiro watched in horrified amazement as the girl bent over and picked her head off the floor, then attached it again and twisted it to each side to make sure it was on tight this time, as if she was expecting Kuroh to try it again. “That's rude to do to a lady, neko!” she huffed, crossing her arms, or at least attempting to. “And you-” she pointed to Shiro- “I heard that! I'm not the culprit! I'm the least suspicious one here, neko!”

Shiro and Kuroh glanced at each other nervously, but since the cat… girl… costume…  _ thing _ didn't acknowledge her bizarreness, neither of them said anything. “Y-you’re really not?” Shiro asked, a little guilty for having blamed her.

The girl shook her head. “I'm really not. I just…” She looked at her feet and clasped her paws together. “I just want to live peacefully, neko.” After a moment's consideration, she admitted, “Maybe you guys aren't the people who’re doing it… but you gotta find who really is, okay? Promise, neko?”

“A promise?” Shiro repeated. Now that he thought about it, that's kind of a contract, right? Like that old man in the limo had said- 'a room that only those bound by a contract may enter’. It had to be this. A contract to solve a murder wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but it could be interesting… and there was no way he  _ wouldn't  _ help. He shook his head, coming back to the present, and stuck out his hand. “I promise.”

The girl, relieved, took his hand in both paws and shook it vigorously. “Thank you! Thank you, neko!” Even without a real face to show it, there was a delighted smile in her voice.

“Well, if Shiro agreed… then I promise as well,” Kuroh said reluctantly, and shook the girl's paw as well. She seemed much less enthusiastic that time- Shiro chuckled to himself- but that was fair, given how Kuroh had been quite antagonistic towards her. “Anyhow, we should introduce ourselves. I'm Kuroh Yatogami. ...Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“And I'm Yashiro Isana! Call me Shiro, though, okay?” Shiro said brightly. A charming smile lit his face as he introduced himself.

“It's nice to meet you, Shiro and Kuroh!” the girl chirped. “I'm Neko, neko!”

Shiro blinked, then glanced at Kuroh and mumbled, “...How did I not guess that?” He chuckled as Kuroh shook his head slowly. “A-anyway… Neko, how do we even  _ find  _ the culprit?”

Neko laughed timidly and shuffled her feet. “Um… I dunno… But-” she said quickly, before either of them could get annoyed with her- “I know where the last person came in, neko.”

“The last person… Tatara?” Kuroh asked solemnly.

Neko shrugged. “I dunno the name… but we can go right now, neko!” She started to dash off in another direction, leading Shiro and Kuroh, but stopped suddenly. “Wait! I have something for you guys, neko!” From who knows where, she pulled out two pairs of eyeglasses, giving blue and white striped ones to Shiro and sleek black ones to Kuroh.

Kuroh held the glasses in his hands for a moment, looking at them almost distrustfully, but slipped them eventually onto his face and breathed, “...Incredible.” He looked around with an amazed expression, lips parted slightly.

Out of curiosity, Shiro put his on too, and gasped as he did. The fog, which had shrouded everything in a blanket of dull yellow, was gone from his vision. Finally he could make out more than the vague details of his surroundings. The edges of the strange stage where they stood were checkered with bright red and blue squares, and under their feet was a huge black bull’s-eye printed on the floor. Silhouettes of sprawling bodies were printed there as well, which was an observation Shiro could have done without. “How…?”

Neko giggled, apparently very entertained by the two boys’ reactions. “These’ll help you lots! I've been here for a long time, so leave it all to me, okay, neko?”

Shiro patted Neko’s head, giving her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Neko!” It was a mystery how she made them, but everything was a mystery down here, so he shrugged it off. Plus, they were pretty cute glasses, in his opinion… and, it was a self-indulgent thought, but Kuroh looked really good in them. He brushed that thought aside as well. “Alright, then, will you lead the way?”

Clearly delighted, Neko nodded. “Yeah! But, um…” She scratched her head, looking a bit ashamed despite the permanent smile on her face. “I can only take you there, I can't fight for you, neko.”

“Fight for us…?” Kuroh frowned. “What's out there, those 'Shadows’? I'm proficient with a sword, but… I only brought that golf club,” he said, gesturing to the club in Shiro's hands. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he rubbed circles into his temples.

Neko waver her stubby arms in front of her. “You saw me! I'm empty, neko!” Quieter, acting almost insecure, she added, “I'm sorry, you guys, neko...”

Shiro patted Neko's head again, trying to comfort her. “It's okay! We'll be fine. Right, Kuroh?” He gave the other boy a lopsided smile, and Kuroh visibly relaxed, but only a bit. 

Neko leaned into the touch a little, then straightened up and put her paws on her hips, or whatever could be equated to that on her odd 'body’. “Okay! Let's go, neko!”

 

The place Neko had lead them to could be described most accurately as a mockery. It looked like a residential area- probably in Inaba; Shiro hadn't had time to go on a long walk, though, so he couldn't confirm- but everything was tinged a sickly greenish hue under the red and black sky. The windows were shattered, and the whole place looked run-down, like it'd been abandoned for years. Shiro stared at the odd neighborhood, feeling a little on-edge, and asked, “What…  _ is  _ this place?”

Neko shook her head. “I dunno… I've never seen something like it before. Maybe it's related to that Tatara guy, neko.” At the mention of the name, the boys’ faces fell, and she switched the subject quickly. “So… is this your town, neko?”

“Yes,” Kuroh answered, “...in a way…” His eyes narrowed as he looked around the eerie landscape. “In fact… I know this place; it's near Tatara's house.” When Shiro looked at him questioningly, he explained, “He would invite me to stay at his house after school sometimes.” His voice sounded a little strange to Shiro, but it quickly went back to normal when he said, “This must be where he fell in, then.”

“Will you take us there?” Shiro asked. “You're the only one of us who knows where it is.”

Kuroh nodded determinedly. “If I remember right, it's over here…” Shiro and Neko trailed after him as he walked away, mumbling to himself once in a while as he navigated the dimly-lit streets.

The walk to Tatara's house wasn't long, and thank God for that, because this place gave Shiro the creeps. It was only about five minutes before Kuroh stopped in front of a small, worn down house. Instead of a door, the structure had a red and black portal-like entrance, just like the room they'd stumbled upon with Yata the day before. Kuroh put his hand up to halt Shiro and Neko, saying, “This is it... Are we going in?”

Neko almost said yes, but a noise from behind interrupted her. It sounded like something slithering, something  _ slimy,  _ and somehow unlike anything Shiro'd ever heard before. In unison, the three turned around to see what had to be the creepiest living thing Shiro or Kuroh had ever laid eyes upon. It looked like a puddle of black ooze, but it had odd, claw-like hands, and embedded in it was a blue mask with a gaping mouth and round, hollow eyes. As Shiro and the others watched in grotesque horror, the puddle began to contort its shape, coming together in a huge sphere that hovered a few feet off the ground. Stripes, like a zebra’s but purple, blossomed on its surface. The thing turned around, revealing a huge, toothy mouth that took up nearly the entirety of that side. A dripping tongue hung out of its monstrous maw, which may have been funny if the situation wasn't so dire.

“You guys, watch out, neko!” Neko cried, taking a step back. “It's a Shadow, you need to protect yourself, neko!” Kuroh ran to the side of the house and hunkered down out of sight, but Shiro just stared at the Shadow as it came barrelling towards him. Stared, because somehow, he knew what to do.

_ “I am thou. Thou art I.”  _ The words he'd heard that rainy night echoed in his head again, even louder this time, and he winced, held his head in his hands as the deep voice continued.  _ “It is time to open your eyes and call forth what is within!”  _ Shiro's eyes, shut tight in pain, flew open again, and he gasped as he was hit with realization. In his hand now laid a blank, black card, not unlike the tarot cards he'd seen in the Velvet Room. He looked intently down at it, ignoring Neko's and Kuroh's panicked shouting, and a calm, confident smile spread across his face.

“Persona!”

Shiro’s hand clenched around the card, and from it poured a blinding blueish light, making Kuroh and Neko gasp in wide-eyed wonder. He grinned, feeling energy,  _ power,  _ run through him as the light glowed like a flame in his  hands, cutting like a sword through the haunting darkness of this bizarre Inaba. Shiro felt as if his chest was bursting as someone- some _ thing-  _ manifested out of the blueness. It was tall, much taller than any of them, and on its slender frame was a long dark coat split down the center. Its face was reminiscent of a knight’s helmet; two long white belts attached to its coat went down to its feet, which looked almost like ice skates with the razor-sharp blades that adorned the bottoms. In its right hand was a spear-like weapon ending in the wicked blade of a sword. “...Izanagi,” Shiro murmured, staring in amazement at the creature that came from him, that he knew somehow despite it only now awakening.

Shiro was snapped out of his enraptured state when the Shadow reached him, drooling mouth wide open; instinctively, he held the golf club in front of him in defense, but as he looked to his Persona, he realized he didn’t need it. “Izanagi!” he called again, this time a call, a command, and it rushed forward to protect him. It spread its arms, and, as the three of them gazed in awe, the Shadow was struck down by lightning that was summoned seemingly out of thin air. The monster righted itself wobblingly and almost knocked Shiro back with its long back tongue, but Izanagi attacked again, sending more and more blinding white bolts down onto the screeching creature. It flopped around and gave a warped scream of pain, and then, to Shiro’s relief, it dissipated into a cloud of red and black smoke.

As Izanagi, having fulfilled its present duty, faded away, Shiro sighed in physical and mental exhaustion.,  _ It must be tied to my energy levels,  _ he thought dully.  _ Ah, so there’s the catch…  _ He heard a voice calling and hurried footsteps and opened his eyes to see Kuroh looking at him, a concerned frown on his face.

“Shiro… what was that?” he asked. “‘Persona’? I… how did you  _ do  _ that?” He placed a supportive hand on Shiro’s shoulder when the boy trembled a little in dizziness. “More important, are you okay?”

Shiro nodded, then took in a deep breath, feeling a little better, though nowhere near invigorated. “I don’t know what I did, it just came to me… And I heard that voice again.” Kuroh looked understandably confused, but before Shiro could elaborate, Neko came running up to them.

“Shiiiiiro,” she cried, amazed, “that was incredible! You chased those Shadows off like they were nothing, neko!”

Shiro patted the girl on the head, beaming at the compliment. “You’re giving me too much credit… I don’t even know how I did it.” He rubbed the back of his head, a little self-conscious. “The only thing I really know how to do is bring people in here, and that’s pretty simple.”

“Shiro is the coolest, neko!” Neko trilled, then asked Kuroh, “Isn’t he, neko?”

Kuroh glanced at Shiro, who turned his gentle smile to him instead. “Y-yes,” he murmured, “that he is.” Suddenly uncomfortable somehow, he looked to the side, avoiding eye contact, and cleared his throat. “A-anyway, we should probably go in, right?” He nodded his head towards Tatara’s house.

Shiro nodded and walked beside Kuroh up to the building, each bracing themselves, as Neko scrambled to keep up on her stumpy legs. He came to a stop, though, as the heard the noise of distant voices. Kuroh and Neko must have noticed it too, because they all looked at each other uneasily.

_ “That Totsuka kid’s a nice guy, isn’t he?” _

_ “Yeah, he’s friendly enough. But he always looks so happy… it’s kinda strange, don’t you think?” _

_ “I agree… sometimes I think if the whole school burned down he’d just laugh it off.” _

_ “Then, he's nice but freaky.” _

“Say, Neko,” Shiro whispered, “this place is affected by the people who fall in, right?”

“It seems like it, neko,” Neko answered. “This is what the world is like for them, neko.”

There was a melancholy look in Kuroh's eyes as he said, “...So this is what it was like for him.” He stood there tensely for a while, then turned to Shiro and said, “Come on, let's go.”

 

The inside of Tatara's house was just like the rest of their surroundings, beaten up, with a sinister feeling to it. Shiro was used to it by now, but it was odd to see someone's home like that, somewhere they slept and ate and maybe laughed together and felt safe in. He found himself not moving from the entrance even when Kuroh and Neko walked into the room- a kitchen, by the looks of it- at the end of the hall that they'd stepped into. Eventually, though, he hurried after them, not wanting to be left alone in a place like this.

Almost immediately after Shiro arrived in the small, disorganized room, the voices started up again, louder and clearer, an adult man's voice now.  _ “You know, you're kind of a cold-hearted kid, Tatara.” _

Kuroh frowned. “I know that voice… that's Tatara's father. But, why would he say that?”

“He didn't seem cold-hearted to me,” Shiro said, sounding subdued, as he looked up at the ceiling, subconsciously searching for the source of the disembodied voice.

_ “It's hard to be a good father if you just don't care that you got left with a hopeless guy like me when your mom left. How am I supposed to get better?” _

Kuroh shook his head, eyes cast downward to the dusty floor. “I… I didn't know his home life was strained. ...Come to think of it, though… Tatara never really told me anything about himself.”

Sonder, Shiro remembered- some piece of trivia he'd seen online, perhaps- was the English term for a feeling one has when they realize every single person around them is living their own complex life with their own struggles and happiness. This feeling of sonder hit him hard as he listened to the voice go on, not with an angry tone, but one of genuine curiosity about how a boy like that could be so nonchalant. Tatara  _ was  _ a 'boy like that’, apparently, with a history full of abandonment and… whatever it was that made his father- adoptive, not biological, it seemed- so 'hopeless’. It was odd, he thought, that he'd only met the boy once, and now he was privy to this information, the things Kuroh and Yata and Saruhiko had no knowledge of. The feeling was multiplied tenfold when he considered that he was hearing it through the voice of an illusion of the boy's father postmortem…

The feeling was short-lived, however, forgotten as a different, familiar voice spoke up, not the voice of the happy and friendly Tatara that Shiro had met at Junes, but a slightly forlorn one.  _ “Hey, Dad… maybe you're right. I'm kind of cold-hearted after all. I guess I hardly even care that I'm-” _

“Dying. And you know all about death, don't you, Kuroh? Or, rather, me?”


	7. I'll Face Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really _not_ his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's gonna care, I'm taking some creative liberty with the arcana and skills of the Personae featured here because... I don't have the confidence to make my own Personae for the characters lol. |D

Sinister yellow eyes shone in the shadows of the hallway as Kuroh, Shiro, and Neko whipped around in nervous bewilderment. Shiro felt Kuroh start next to him, then begin to tremble in fear of the figure he beheld. It came out of the darkness slowly, with an exaggerated hopeless expression on its face, a mocking image of grief and remorse. Its long black hair, tied back into a ponytail, swayed behind it as it stalked towards Kuroh, ignoring the others. The first Kuroh, rather, because besides the cruel golden eyes and the bluish purple aura that glowed around it, the figure  _ was  _ Kuroh.

“Who- what are you?” Kuroh choked out, not moving as Shiro and Neko stepped backwards. The boy, who was usually level-headed and calm, had become the polar opposite in a matter of seconds: he shook, clenching and unclenching his fists, and he looked as if he was paralyzed with fear as he stared into his mirror’s eyes.

The other Kuroh didn't respond. Instead, it whined, “It's all our fault, isn't it, me? The cra-”

“I-I would never say something like that,” Kuroh protested, but he sounded unconfident, and  though his voice was almost firm, it wavered just a little bit.

“A crash?” Shiro said softly. “Kuroh, what-?”

“Our parents, our siblings, our aunt and uncle…” The other Kuroh spat out every word, losing its weepy facade, and Kuroh flinched every time. “All dead! Let's stop deluding ourselves, Kuroh. We really are an angel of death.”

Still, Kuroh denied it. “No… the crash, the fire, they... weren't my fault…” The resolve was slowly draining out of his voice. “What he did to me, I didn't…”

“You  _ do  _ deserve it,” the other Kuroh hissed. A derisive grin spread across its face, contorting Kuroh's features in a way that was so eerily uncharacteristic that it made Shiro cringe. “You know it, and so do I, because  _ I'm you.” _

“I don't know what you're talking about!” Kuroh shouted, finally breaking loose of his petrified state. “I'm not you! You're not me!”

Taking another step forward so its face was practically pressed against Kuroh's, the other Kuroh said slowly, “Then how do I know you blame yourself for this? How do I know that when he kicked you and yelled at you, you welcomed it, because you knew deep down that you deserved it?”

“S-stop that!” Kuroh warned, pushing his double away. His voice cracked as, quieter this time, he said, “You're not me, you damn-”

The other Kuroh cut him off with a laugh that was devoid of all cheer; it was a cruel, demeaning laugh, and it only got louder and louder until Kuroh finally backed down, slowly easing away. It doubled over, never gasping for breath despite its fit of demonic cackling. “Maybe you have a point,” it hissed, lifting it's head to look directly into Kuroh's eyes with its cold yellow ones. “I don't  _ need  _ to be you anymore. Maybe I can be my own man and leave you to be a monster all by your lonesome self!”

Kuroh, beginning to realize what a big mistake he'd made, crept further away, hitting the kitchen table and falling to the ground with a grunt. “Wait- Whatever you're going to do-” he stopped, speechless, as the dark aura surrounding his double deepened to black, bright red emanating from the edges. As if it'd taken on mind of its own, the cloud thickened and swirled around it, pouring into it as it continued to laugh uncontrollably. It was invisible behind the dense blackness for a second, and it was then that the ceiling broke upwards, raining rubble down onto the three below. Shiro grabbed Kuroh by the collar of his uniform and dragged him out of the way of the falling debris. The boys, along with Neko, stared up at the crumbling ceiling, and when the dust settled, they could finally see the monstrosity that broke it.

A pile of sickly grey flesh, wobbling slightly, rose high into the air. Parts of bodies, still squirming and alive, were half-melded into it; Shiro counted six torsos and dozens of limbs flailing about in the disgusting heap. Perched at the top, partially absorbed by the mass as well, was the duplicate Kuroh, gazing down at them like a king on his throne. Kuroh retched beside Shiro, and Shiro almost did too, but he choked it down despite his disgust and glared up at the creature. “You… are you a Shadow?”

The thing laughed in Kuroh's voice, making Shiro's skin crawl. “That's correct,” it drawled, “but I have a feeling you won't defeat me as easily as you did the others.”

Shiro gripped the gold club tight. “Maybe that's true, but I won't let you hurt my friend!” He glanced over to the real Kuroh for a moment. “I mean… we are friends, ri- no, that's not important…” Turning his attention back to the Shadow, he yelled, “If you think you can beat us, then prove it!”

Shiro almost regretted saying that, because the flesh of the Shadow monster began to reshape itself with a wet slopping sounds making his stomach churn. Two crude arms formed, strings of grey snapping as they pulled apart from the bulk of the body. As Shiro watched in dismay, Kuroh's Shadow raised its hand and made it into a fist, and the monstrous grey one followed. “I think I have power that surpasses the likes of you,” it sneered, and swung its arm down.

Shiro let out a surprised yelp as the fist came down right where he had just been, narrowly avoiding it by ducking and rolling to the side. Through coughs, he shouted, “Persona!” He didn't have to look to know that the card was in his palm, and, lo and behold, a blue glow enveloped him and his surroundings for a few seconds before it died down to show Izanagi standing before him, arms outstretched to guard Shiro as he regained his composure. For a brief moment he wondered how to command it now that it wasn't just instinct guiding him-  _ Should I sic it on the Shadow or what?  _ he thought to himself- but before he could do anything, he heard a high-pitched voice calling his name.

“Shiro! I'll back you up, neko!” Neko cried, cupping her paws around her mouth, not that it did anything given that she didn't technically have a real one. “I know the Shadows better than anyone! It's getting an attack ready, neko!”

Shiro shielded himself with his golf club just in time; a second after, he was hit with a blast of wind rough enough to blow him down it'd caught him off guard. He gave Neko a grateful look, then took a deep breath and called, “Izanagi! Let's go!” That seemed to work- it was, after all, an extension of his soul, or at least he assumed so- because, as Shiro ran up to the Shadow, Izanagi followed, and when he began to whack it with his club- to little effect- the Persona reached out a hand and rained lightning down onto the beast, making it cry out in pain.

“How… Why are you doing this?” Kuroh's Shadow demanded. “Can't you tell he deserves this?” It swiped its hand to the side, and Shiro moved away almost quick enough to avoid it completely, but as he jumped back, the tips of the grey fingers hit him, sending him across the room where he slammed into the wall.

“Shiro!” Kuroh's urgent voice rang through the dusty room, and Shiro looked up with a smile.

“Don't worry, Kuroh. I got this.” He got shakily to his feet, and, with renewed vigor, commanded, “Izanagi! Again!” Another bolt lit up the room, and Kuroh's Shadow screeched as it was struck, the smell of burnt flesh permeating the air. In the middle of the chaos, Shiro yelled, “Whatever happened, it's not his fault! Kuroh, it's not your fault!”

The figure at the top of the fleshy mass shook with laughter. “What would  _ you  _ know? He'd never tell you! He'd never let you know he's a freak!”

Shiro blinked. “A freak?” he murmured, and for a moment, despite the danger, he dropped the club to his side and stood still. He turned to Kuroh, who still sat on the floor, in quiet shock. “Kuroh, you think that? You think…”

“He  _ is  _ a freak!” the Shadow interrupted, staring daggers at Kuroh. “Aren't y-”

There was a loud booming noise as Izanagi attacked the Shadow, electrocuting it again and again, puncturing Shiro's words as he defended his friend. “Kuroh-”  _ crack!- “ _ Yatogami-”  _ crack!-  _ “is-”  _ crack!-  _ “not-”  _ crack!-  _ “a-”  _ crack!  _ “freak!”

He panted in exhaustion, and, its energy depleted, Izanagi faded into nothingness. “Kuroh… the deaths you two were talking about… there's no way they could have been your fault.” Shiro walked slowly over to Kuroh, holding out his hand for the other boy to grab. “You can't keep thinking like that.”

Behind him, the Shadow slumped to one side, and a few seconds later it seemed to melt into darkness again, dissipating into a black fog. When the air cleared, only the other Kuroh remained, laying on its back and taking in only shallow breaths. It looked almost… pathetic. Kuroh took Shiro's hand and slowly got to his feet, then took a few tentative steps toward his Shadow. After a long, long period of silence, he finally spoke. “... You're right.” His Shadow cracked open one eye and looked up at him, no expression on its face. Kuroh stared back, finally making eye contact with those inhuman yellow eyes. “You're right,” he repeated, “I do feel like a freak. Everyone I love dies… so…” he looked away again, ashamed, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “...there must be something wrong with me.”

Shiro dropped the golf club and walked up to stand beside Kuroh, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details, but… look, Kuroh, none of these things were caused by you. That's just not possible.” He half expected Kuroh to swat his hand away and chide him like he may have to a certain redhead, but instead he just sighed.

“I don't know if I can believe you yet. But… it seems that I have no choice but to accept that deep down, I'm thinking like this,” Kuroh replied. “No use keeping it a secret anymore, to myself or you.” He knelt down next to his Shadow and gazed down at it, a look of pity in his eyes. “I've neglected you for too long,” he admitted, a regretful half-smile crossing his face. “One can't be strong unless they're willing to face themselves. …I’m sorry.”

Looking as if it was finally at peace, the Shadow smiled back at Kuroh, eyes half-lidded. To everyone's amazement, another glow surrounded it- not the haunting black and red one like before, but a bluish white one like Izanagi’s. Kuroh eased back as the Shadow disappeared into the light, and as it did, something emerged from the whiteness, hovering above where the Shadow had been. It looked like a man, dressed in sleek white armor with blue and black lines accenting the shining metal. It carried a long, wicked-looked spear, and it's hair was long, black, and shimmery, reminiscent of Kuroh's own. Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared, fading back into the light, and, for a dazzling moment, Kuroh glowed with it, eyes wide. Then, the moment was over, and he exhaled heavily, then reached out to grip Shiro's hand. 

Shiro just stood there for a second, confused and a little bit flustered, but then his brain started working again, and he pulled Kuroh to his feet as he realized what the boy wanted.  _ He must be exhausted,  _ Shiro thought sympathetically.  _ Poor guy… but he'll be okay.  _

Kuroh eventually let go of Shiro's hand and cast a look his way. “Shiro…”

“There's no need to thank me,” Shiro interrupted. “I was just helping a friend.” He sighed, feeling quite worn out himself, then turned to Neko. “So, does this mean Totsuka was killed by his other self in here?”

“I think so, neko,” Neko answered. “When it's foggy in here, the Shadows all freak out. A Shadow comes from a human, and other ones come to it and make it stronger so it can kill the person, neko.” A little after, she added, “At least, I think so, neko.”

Kuroh grimaced. “That's brutal,” he muttered, fatigue evident in his voice.

Shiro almost laughed a little at how Kuroh's tiredness so perfectly mirrored how he felt. “That's interesting and all, but… for now, I think Kuroh and I need to get some rest.”

 

“So what you're saying is, the houses and that weird room we found with Yata formed because of Totsuka and Weismann?”

Neko nodded at Shiro as she walked beside him on the way back to the entrance of the TV world. “Well, it's never happened before, but probably. That's where they got killed, at least, neko…” She looked down, seeming a little anxious as she said, “The Shadows get really scary sometimes. So I have to hide, neko…” Shiro pat her on the back, and she seemed to cheer up a little. “But now that you guys are here, I'll be brave, neko!”

Kuroh cleared his throat to get the cat's attention. “So, to get this completely straight- Tatara and Weismann were pushed into this place, wandered around until their Shadow appeared, and were killed when the fog cleared. Correct?”

Solemnly, Neko nodded again. “That sounds right, neko.”

“So… they died all alone,” Shiro murmured, a little mournfully. “There has to be some way to help now, if anyone else is pushed in… I don't want more people to get hurt. Now that I-” he looked at Kuroh, then shook his head. “Now that  _ we  _ have these powers.”

“You fought someone's Shadow once,” Kuroh agreed. “If we can just find people before they're killed…”

“Then we can kill their Shadows and save them!” Shiro finished for him, an optimistic smile appearing on his face. “Kuroh, you'll help, right? And you, too, Neko?”

Neko bounced up and down excitedly, making what Shiro assumed were happy meowing noises, then struck a confident pose. “I'll back you up! Leave it to me, neko!” she said, pointing towards herself. “I know everything there is to know about the shadows, neko!” Her arm fell as she murmured, “Except… if Shadows come from humans, where does Neko come from, neko?”

*And just how are we supposed to know that?” Kuroh sounded harsh, but there was no edge to his voice as he said, “You might not know about yourself, but you know about this world, and that's enough for now.” As Shiro scratched Neko behind one of her ears in an attempt to comfort her, Kuroh muttered, “That explains why we couldn't get a straight answer out of you earlier, though…”

Neko seemed to be a little bit more relaxed now, a testament to Shiro's naturally soothing presence. “Well… will you guys at least come back here?” Her usually cheery-sounding voice was almost forlorn now, and she tugged at the sleeve of Shiro's jacket.

“Of course we'll come back,” Kuroh assured her. “We have to investigate more, after all.” Under his breath, he continued, “Not to mention that Shiro's clearly taken a liking to you.” Shiro gave him a brief, confused look, but was mostly ignored. “Anyway, it's getting late… I assume. Will you make us an exit?”

With her concerns seemingly quelled for the moment- or possibly just not wanting anyone to be upset with her- Neko nodded, and Shiro and Kuroh quickly moved out of the way as she stomped on the ground. Like the first time- though with less frustration behind it- the stack of old TVs spring forth from the ground with a low rumbling noise. She waved a hesitant goodbye as the two boys passed through the screens, then gave a small, subdued whimper.

 

Shiro and Kuroh had no more than five seconds to reorient themselves before they were greeted with a barrage of curses that somehow sounded more scared than angry. “You're back! Y--you assholes!” Yata cried, hopping up off the ground where he'd presumably sitting for the past couple hours. “I was worried, you, you…” With a grunt, he threw his part of the rope at Kuroh's chest. “You hairy nutsacks!”

“Hairy nut…?” Kuroh trailed off with a sigh. “Listen, I'm sorry, alright? Don't get hysterical on us.” He rolled up the rope and stuffed it into his bag, nestled among the textbooks and school supplies.

Yata turned away, having none of Kuroh's attitude. “I was worried, sue me! The rope broke and I didn't know what to do!” There was a huffy pout on his face, but it was a poor mask for his fairly blatant anxiety. In an unconvincing voice, he muttered, “God, I hate you two.” 

“Ah, that's a little extreme, don't you think?” Shiro chuckled.  _ Ah, if I'd known he'd be this distraught, maybe he should have come with me instead of Kuroh,  _ he mused with a bit of regret. He almost apologized- sincerely, as opposed to Kuroh- but before he could, Yata left the two of them behind as he stormed out of the electronics apartment. “Eh… I guess we'll apologize tomorrow?” he murmured instead.

“I guess,” Kuroh echoed as he watched Yata run off. “We may as well leave too. I think… I think I need some sleep.” He did look exhausted, Shiro noted again; his voice had no energy at all to it, and his eyes were. And tired.

Shiro reached out and rubbed Kuroh's back a little. Kuroh stiffened, but didn't move or tell Shiro to cut it out, so he left his palm there as he said, “You look a little dead, yeah. ...Hey, but before you go…” Kuroh looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not speaking, but giving him a questioning look. “... You'll be okay, right?” Shiro asked.

Slowly, Kuroh nodded. “I need to think about some things. I'll tell you someday, if you want to know, but… not right now.”

Taking his hand off of Kuroh's back, Shiro nodded. “Someday,” he agreed. “But for now, let's just go home, shall we?”


	8. Strength of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively: Yata has exactly one close friend and will protect him with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not ready for Fushimi angst. What have I done to myself.

A dreary day had turned into a dreary evening by the time Shiro walked out of Junes. With a tiny sigh, he rifled through his school bag and pulled out an umbrella, pushing it open before he slung it over his shoulder and walked into the rain. He wasn't very familiar with Inaba yet, but if he could get back to the school, then he could get back to Mikoto’s house from there… Shiro groaned inside.  _ Crap, that's, like, an hour-long walk!  _ Steeling himself, he began to traverse the long street, feet splashing through puddles as he went. About halfway through his trek, though, he came upon someone familiar, and a smile lit his face. “Saruhiko!”

Saruhiko, who was sitting at a small table inside a gazebo on the side of the road, glanced over to where Shiro was standing. “Oh. ...Shiro, right?” he called back, low voice almost lost in the rain.

Shiro nodded and dubiously eyed the muddy slope of the hill that the gazebo stood upon, then shrugged and made his way up, feet threatening to sink into the soil as he did so. With slightly aching legs, he stopped beside the table, leaning against it casually. “Um… why are you sitting out here in the rain?”

Saruhiko's gaze flicked back down to the table, where he was picking at the wood with one fingernail. “Needed a break,” he said simply, with an undertone of 'none of your business.’ 

Trying to get past Saruhiko's withdrawal, Shiro took a seat opposite him, storing his umbrella in his bag for the time being. “Is it tough at the inn? Busy season?”

“Guess you could say that,” Saruhiko answered, leaving Shiro a bit confused and a little concerned for his maybe-possibly-friend. Saruhiko tapped his knuckles on the wood, looking somewhat distracted, then sighed. “...Maybe I should head back, though.”

Shiro rubbed his neck, realizing he'd made the other boy nothing but uncomfortable. “R-right

… well, I'm sure you're very important there, so that's probably for the best,” he replied, feeling a little self-conscious. “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

Wordlessly, Saruhiko nodded, then slipped away quickly back down the hill as Shiro watched from afar. Something was off, he could tell, but he couldn't place his finger on what… until he noticed that Saruhiko was walking the opposite way than he'd walked home with himself and Yata. He blinked, narrowed his eyes, almost suspicious, but tried to shrug it off and descended the hill as well, though not before a pang of worry hit him.

 

For what seemed like the millionth time, the broadcast was about the “bizarre murders occurring in Inaba”. Shiro and Anna, as always, gazed at the TV; there was little else to do, after all, especially since Mikoto was late getting home, presumably caught up in the investigation.  _ “At around 7am, local high schooler Tatara Totsuka was found dead in Inaba’s residential area,”  _ the reporter read, then shuffled his papers.  _ “Since the body was positioned similarly to the last victim, and since Mr. Totsuka was the one to discover that body, police are proceeding under the assumption that this may be a serial murder related to the death of Klaudia Weismann.”  _ Shiro's heart sank. Somewhere in him, he still couldn't believe something like this was happening in such a nice little town.  _ “The coroner’s report has listed Mr. Totsuka’s time of death as about 1am last night,”  _ the reporter went on.  _ “The body went unnoticed until this morning as a result of the heavy fog blanketing the area.” _

“Another incident,” Anna murmured. “Mikoto won't be coming home tonight, then.” Though it seemed like she was doing her best to seem stoic, there was a bit of lonely sadness in her voice.

Sympathetically, Shiro said, “I'll be here for you, so don't worry.” He reached out and gave her silky hair a pat, and the girl seemed to relax a little bit.

“I'll be okay. I'm used to this,” she assured him, though she still had a subtle look of melancholy about her. She looked as if she was about to say something else, but the two of them were distracted again by the news.

_ “...Fushimi Inn, located upstream of the Samegawa River, is the town's oldest historical landmark.”  _ A different person was speaking now, and it was finally a topic other than the murders… Shiro gave a small, relieved smile.  _ Looks like they're talking about Saruhiko, too… how neat is that?  _ On the screen, the speaker went on.  _ “Vacationers are known to travel surprising distances in order to visit its open-air, radium-rich hot springs. The inn also boasts one of the youngest managers we've ever heard of, the managers’ son, Saruhiko Fushimi. This afternoon, we had an interview with this high schooler…” _

Shiro straightened up, watching intently as the screen changed to a recording of Saruhiko. He was shown sitting opposite a woman with a microphone; he was wearing a crisp, black suit, and his posture, instead of the slumping, almost apathetic-looking one Shiro associated with him, was tense and stick-straight. It was well-hidden, but Shiro could almost make out anxiety in his expression.  _ “So,”  _ the lady said,  _ “we've heard that you’re the new manager here, which is surprising for such a young man.” _

_ “It's temporary,”  _ Saruhiko replied.  _ “I'm joining my… parents… for the time being.”  _ His voice was slow, hesitant, and while he'd probably been trying to give off a feeling of openness for the interview, it looked like he was itching to run away.

The woman with the microphone leaned in, clearly oblivious to the boy's discomfort, and laughed as she said, _ “You look handsome in that suit. I bet you must get a lot of female visitors, huh, Fushimi-kun?” _

Saruhiko edged away from the woman, a look of disgust written across his face now despite the cameras still rolling.  _ “What…? No, I…” _

Shiro gave the TV a skeptical look. “...What an interview,” he muttered, and shut off the TV as the interviewer delved further and further into irrelevant gossip.

 

In all honesty, it was frightening for Shiro to sit in his room and watch the Midnight Channel again, given that the last time he'd watched it, he'd seen- Shiro swallowed nervously at the thought- he'd seen someone being murdered by the manifestation of his own repressed thoughts and urges. Pretty dark stuff. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and sat down on his couch, staring at the dark screen of his TV. The rain that'd been falling all day pounded against the windows, and the clock on the wall ticked steadily onward in the quiet room until the hour hand struck twelve.

At once, the room was aglow from the hazy yellow screen, and the loud static again made Shiro start, even though he was expecting it. He rose to his feet and padded toward the TV, kneeling down to inspect the flickering image. It was less vivid this time, just a dark silhouette against the yellowness; the only thing Shiro could make out was that it was a man in a suit. He hummed ponderously, then pressed his hand against the screen until it gave and his arm slid in up to the wrist. The figure on the screen rippled and faded, and when Shiro pulled out again, the screen was dark. “Can't touch them from here… right, that makes sense,” he mumbled, a little disappointed at the result of his experiment. He fell back sleepily into a sitting position, then rolled over into his side, only vaguely thinking about getting into bed before his eyes fell shut, exhaustion finally besting him.

 

To his surprise, Shiro didn't wake up on the floor of his room when he came around. Instead, he felt velvet under his fingers, and opened one eye, then both, to see that he was in the limousine again. He sat up straight and stretched his arms, yawning, then eyed the inhabitants- Igor and Margaret, if his memory served him correctly. “Uh… good morning…?”

Igor shook his balding head. “Do not worry, this is still nighttime, and you are still asleep in the real world. I have summoned you within your dreams.”

_ Ah, right,  _ Shiro thought.  _ “Between dreams and reality,” or something like that.  _ He sure felt like he was still asleep, too… or at least still on the ground. Despite knowing it wouldn't help, he rubbed his aching back. “Uh, so, why did you bring me here, then?”

“In your daily life, you subconsciously heard the call to awaken, and you chose to follow the destiny of your inner voice…,” Margaret replied with a gentle smile, “thereby enacting your glorious reveal of power.”

Shiro rubbed the back of his head, smiling humbly as well. “Aw, shucks, it was n-”

“Hold onto this,” Igor interrupted, skipping the pleasantries. Shiro pouted for a moment, but promptly forgot his frustration as he felt a slight weight in his hand. He looked down, and in his palm was a key, silver, with a blue glow about it. Shiro's eyes widened, and he held the key up to his face, marveling at the ornate beauty of it. “That is a Velvet Key,” Igor explained. “It will allow you to come to this room as you please.”

Shiro nodded and stuffed the key into his pocket, realizing with a sigh that he'd forgotten to change into his uniform beforehand. “Neat,” he said, then looked back up as Igor began to speak again.

“To proceed in the journey you have embarked upon, you will be needing your help,” the old man went on. “There is a price for this, however. You must abide fully by your contract and assume all responsibility for any decisions you may make in this coming year.”

“Sounds serious,” Shiro murmured to himself, slightly apprehensive. “...I understand.”

“Very good,” Margaret spoke up. “Now, then… since you've awakened to your Persona, it's time you learn about what that power entails.”

“Yeah, uh, I'm still a little confused about that,” Shiro said. “I think Izanagi is some sort of extension of myself, right? But… uh…” He gave Margaret an embarrassed look. “Mind filling me in?”

Margaret's lips twitched in amusement. “Of course. A Persona could be described as a… mask of confidence, perhaps, that one takes on to face difficult situations,” she replied, “but yours is a special ability.”

Shiro scooted forward in his seat, curiosity piqued as he echoed, “'Special ability?’ You mean, what I have is different from Kuroh? He's got a Persona, too, right?”

“Other people may have Personae,” Igor answered for Margaret, “but only you have the power of the Wild Card. It is like the number zero… empty, yet holding infinite power.”

Shiro flinched despite himself. “...Empty, huh?” he asked, hardly more than a mutter.

Igor nodded, but, to Shiro's frustration, didn't clarify, leaving the boy a bit miffed. Instead, he went on, “The Persona ability comes from one's heart… and bonds with others strengthen it.”

Shiro thought on that for a moment. “So you're saying… if I make friends, this is all gonna be easier.” His easy-going smile reappeared when he said, “Well, I've got a few already… so that's good, right?”

With a chuckle, Margaret nodded. “These friendships might even help you find the truth you are seeking.” She gave Shiro a sly smile. “So, it would do you well to foster those bonds… let them progress, and see what form they'll take. You never know what could happen.”

“What could… happen.. huh?” Shiro was intrigued by her suggestive statement, but he felt his consciousness slipping, a sign that perhaps he was about to be booted from the room.

“Where will your awakened power take you?” Igor mused with an almost playful tone. “I look forward to traveling the road of your destiny together…”

Like the last time, Shiro found himself quickly losing consciousness with little warning, which he figured he should probably get used to. As his awareness left him he realized he still had no idea what the power of the Wild Card was, and, had he the energy to open his mouth, he would have told the inhabitants of the Velvet Room that they're really not good at explaining things- or, on a more positive note, that they're absolutely fantastic at being cryptic and a bit frustrating.

 

The next morning was, well, less than ideal. Shiro had an awful pain in his back- nobody's fault but his own, but still annoying- and,  _ of course,  _ it was raining out. It was okay, though, because partway through his walk to school, Kuroh had fallen outside him, silent at first, but eventually opening up to some small talk. Within a handful of minutes, however, the talk had turned more serious. “You saw what was on last night, right?” Kuroh didn't make eye contact, looking down at the wet pavement instead.

“Yeah, I did,” Shiro said with a nod. “But, I couldn't tell who it was…could you?”

Kuroh, sounding frustrated, answered, “No, I couldn't either. But if that means somebody's in the TV, we have to help them.” He finally took his eyes off the ground and looked at Shiro. “That's the plan… right?”

With determination, Shiro replied, “That's right. We need to go to Neko… maybe she can help.”

“After school,” Kuroh added sternly.

Shiro sighed, but there was laughter in his voice as he said, “Right, yes, Kuroh,  _ after school. _ ” The conversation dwindled off for little, but then Shiro broke the silence with a murmured, “So the police really have no idea what's going on, huh?”

“I guess so. ...Not that they could be blamed for that, but that means we're essentially on our own,” Kuroh said dismally. He stopped in his tracks, then, and turned fully towards Shiro. “But… between the two of us, we can solve this.” After a moment's hesitation, he struck his hand out to Shiro.

Shiro took Kuroh's hand and shook it, grinning. “Right! Let's crack this case together, Kuroh Yatogami.”

For the first time that morning, Kuroh contentedly smiled.

 

Before Shiro and Kuroh could even settle into their chairs, the classroom door opened with a  _ bang,  _ making them both jump. In a moment Yata had hurried across the room and stood beside them, looking antsy as he panted, “Guys-”

“Yata,” Kuroh cut in, “we apologize for yesterday; we didn't mean to worry you…”

“Yeah, yeah, dick move, whatever,” Yata said, shaking his head dismissively. “Look, have either of you seen Saru today?”

Confused, Shiro frowned and answered, “Uh, no… I kinda figured he'd be with you.” He was almost more concerned for Yata than for Saruhiko. “Why, is something the matter?”

Yata sighed, his breathing finally returning to normal-  _ How long had he been running?  _ Shiro wondered- and said, “Listen, I thought about it, and I think you're right about the Midnight Channel being connected to the other world.”

“Do you want to come with us, then?” Kuroh asked. “After school, we're-”

“Right, yeah, I'll come, but you  _ guys- _ ” Yata placed a hand on Kuroh and Shiro's shoulders- “I think the one on the TV last night was Saruhiko.”

Shiro's eyes opened wide, and he stammered, “Wh- Seriously?”

“I wouldn't joke about this, dude,” Yata said. “He wears that suit at the inn, and for that interview they taped yesterday too.” He sighed again, dropping his hands back to his sides, and shook his head. “Shot him an IM last night, but he never replied, and earlier yesterday he said he'd be here.”

In a rare show of tenderness, Kuroh pat Yata on the back. “It’ll be fine… if need be, we may be able to go in there and rescue him.”

Yata cocked his head. “For real? How!?”

Shiro took a deep breath, and, speaking as quickly as he could so as to finish before class started, filled Yata in on everything that'd taken place the evening before- Neko, the Shadows, awakening his Persona, and, leaving out the personal details, Kuroh's encounter with his own Shadow. “...And then we got out and you called us hairy nutsacks and ran away,” he finished, a little out of breath. “And that's it.”

“I- I really called you that?” Yata's face reddened a bit. “...Okay, that  _ does  _ sound like something I would say. Er… I'm sorry about that. But otherwise, that's fuckin’ awesome! So you guys can just go-” Shiro and Kuroh stepped aside as Yata punched the air- “and beat up whatever comes out of him and then bring him back, right?”

Kuroh nodded. “Before we jump in there, though, let's make sure he's really in there. Do you have your cell phone on hand?”

Yata dug around in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a high-end looking phone- Shiro thought it looked like something Saruhiko might have- and pressed the screen a few times, then held it up to his ear. As the moments crept on, he looked more and more tense, until his fingers clenched around the phone and his arm fell back down to his side. “No luck,” he murmured. “Does that mean someone…”

“Pushed him into the TV?” Kuroh finished for him. “That may be… but, like I said, we-”

Interrupting him, Yata snapped his fingers. “Wait, wait, he might be with his parents at the inn! He couldn't have answered my message then.” His fingers made audible noise they hit the screen hard and frantic, presumably finding the number for the Fushimi Inn. It was only a few seconds after he pressed the call button that he let out a relieved sigh and grinned. He greeted whoever had picked up the phone before covering the mic and informing the others, “He's there!”

As Kuroh gave a grateful nod, Shiro smiled back at Yata. “Thank God!” he breathed.

Yata was hardly paying attention to him, however; he listened fixedly to Saruhiko on the other end of the line. “Oh… oh. I'm sorry, Saru.” Pause. “Nah, nothing important… hey, come over tonight, though, get outta that place if it gets too stressful. I'm making dinner tonight.” A second pause. “Yup. I gotta go, though. S-sorry… I'll see you later! Bye, Saruhiko.” With another press of a button, he ended the call and stuffed his cell back in his pocket. After a couple seconds, he exhaled deeply, and shut his eyes tight. “Well, that's enough stress for the year already,” he said under his breath. He straightened his back again then, opening his eyes to look at his friends. “His parents made him work, and he won't be here tomorrow, either.”

Kuroh hummed a little, looking lost in thought, and Shiro tugged on his sleeve to bring him back. “Kuroh, what's wrong?”

“Nothing's  _ wrong,  _ per se, but…” Kuroh frowned. “I thought people only appeared on the Midnight Channel if they were already in the other world. Fushimi is safe, though, so there's no way that could be true, assuming Yata was right in that he was the one that was on the screen last night.”

“You're right… that just doesn't add up.” Yata smiled apologetically. “Eh, I guess I was wrong after all…”

“No, we need to look into this,” Kuroh said decisively. “Come to Junes after school with us.”

Yata was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So… can I go in the TV this time?”

 

“Maybe not,” Yata grumbled as he surveyed the electronics department. It was more crowded than they'd accounted for; people were wondering around in groups of two or three, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the fancy televisions lined up along the walls. “...Shit. Is there a sale going on?”

Kuroh leaned in to take a look at the price tag posted next to the TV and cursed under his breath. “Apparently so. But we need answers; we can't put this off.” He contemplated the situation for a few seconds, then beckoned Shiro over to stand in front of the screen. “I've for an idea. Try putting your hand in and calling Neko over, and Yata, we'll cover him.”

Yata nodded, and the two of them flanked Shiro, though not as closely as the first time they'd entered the TV. Shiro put his hand into the TV and curled and uncurled his fingers, trying his very best not to make kissy noises to call Neko- she  _ was  _ a cat, after all. Within a few seconds, he felt her fuzzy synthetic fur against the skin on the back of his fingers, and a distant voice came from behind the screen. “Shiro! What is it, neko?”

Shiro chuckled at the enthusiastic greeting. “Hey, Neko. We came to check on something… can you tell if there's anyone else in there?”

There was silence for a few seconds. Then, “Nope. I'm all alone, neko.” Her voice was a little less happy this time.

“You sure?” Yata asked. “Not, like, this skinny guy with nice hair and glasses?”

“...Uh, no, neko,” Neko repeated. “No one here but us kittens. You can trust my nose, neko!”

Shiro took his hand out of the TV screen after a rushed “Thank you anyway,” then turned to Yata. “Um, so…”

Yata ran through his hair and groaned in frustration. “Ugh… well, so much for that theory. Guess I'll still warn Saruhiko, though. Can't hurt.”

Kuroh nodded shortly. “That’d be wise, though with any luck he'll be safe at the inn. And, given that you're close…”

“Keep an eye on him? Yeah.” Yata nearly laughed. “Believe me, I take care of him anyway.”

“Good idea,” Shiro said, then added, “Wait- can I get your guys’ numbers? It'd be easier if we could talk right away instead of waiting for the morning, especially since it's the weekend…” As the three of them exchanged cell numbers, he couldn't help but think back to what Margaret has said in his not-quite-dream the night before.  _ Help light the way, huh?  _ he thought, the corners of his lips curving up a tiny bit. _ Well… I have a feeling that these guys will be great for the job. _ Just as he was getting sentimental, Shiro realized that Kuroh and Yata had been staring at him expectantly. “Oh… r-right! Let's see, my number is…”

 

By the third time Shiro had sat in anticipation for the TV to come alive, his nerves were beginning to settle. It still startled him when the loud static came pouring from the speakers, though- but he was startled by something else, too. The image on the screen was perfectly clear and vibrant and  _ moving,  _ unlike the stationary figure he'd seen the night before- and this time, it was clear who it was.

Saruhiko Fushimi.


	9. Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew laws were so strict?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn this is late, if anyone was keeping track of this then I'm sorry, hah. Writer's block, school started, blah blah blah. But I'm not giving up on this! I will finish this fic if it kills me.
> 
> This part of the game is boring though so uh, sorry.  
> At least there's some chikiko/sarumi.

_ “This is Saruhiko Fu-shi-mi speaking…” _

Shiro clambered over to the TV and leaned in close, eyes wide. “Saruhiko…?” he murmured in wonder.  _ So Yata was right… crap, he's really in the TV?  _ But this Saruhiko looked completely different from any other time: instead of the school uniform Shiro’d usually seen him in, he was wearing a dark grey suit and top hat, looking almost like a magician; however, instead of giving him a mystical air, the clothes were tattered, looking like they'd been cut over and over with knives, making Saruhiko look almost creepy. There was a distant and uninterested look on his face as he drawled his introduction, but a manic smile snuck its way on as he went on talking.

_ “It’s time the world sees how people like me live.” _ Saruhiko- was it Saruhiko?- continued, lips curling up into a weird, crooked sort of smile.  _ “Ladies and gentlemen and what have you, welcome to the Fushimi Freakshow, featuring myself as the host- _ and the freak.”

Shiro's stomach twisted itself into knots, and in his dread, he missed whatever the Saruhiko on TV said, looking up to see the image on the screen flicker and disappear. He blinked, exhaled, and sat back, hardly getting a second to relax before the phone in his pocket buzzed and chimed.

_ “Shiro, did you see that?”  _ Kuroh's urgent voice came through the speakers as soon as he picked up.  _ “What in God's name was that Fushimi doing!?” _

“I don't know,” Shiro mumbled, then realized Kuroh probably couldn't hear him well. Raising his voice, he added, “He looked like he was on some weird reality TV show… did he know he's on TV? But…” Shiro glanced back up at the dark screen of the television. “He wasn't acting like himself at all… right? I've only known him for a week, but still…”

_ “No, I've known him for half a year, and he's never acted like this before,”  _ Kuroh said.  _ “We could ask Yata…”  _ he sighed.  _ “But would that even help?” _

Shiro hummed, thinking. “It's late, though… and he's going to be distraught. I mean, this morning he went on and on about it, and Saruhiko wasn't even in danger at that point.” He tapped his foot on the soft carpet. “Why don't we meet up at Junes tomorrow to talk?”

The line was silent as Kuroh considered his words. “You have a point,” he agreed. “I'll call up Yata; go get some sleep.”

“Yeah, goodnight, Kuroh,” Shiro whispered, then flipped his phone shut and left it swinging by his side.

 

The next morning was almost nice enough for Shiro to forget the serious circumstances of his visit to Junes. The sun was out for once, shining gently upon him as he laid back in the chair he was seated at, and he could hear songbirds chirping in the trees below. His eyes were drooping shut, lulled by the warmth, when he heard Kuroh's footfalls on the tile and opened one eye to peek up at him. “Heya, Kuroh.”

Kuroh sighed in mild exasperation. “When I said to get some sleep, I meant  _ overnight,  _ not in the food court,” he scolded, and Shiro chuckled sheepishly. “Getting to business… I've managed to scrape up enough money for these.” From behind his back, he produced two bladed weapons- Shiro recognized them as a katana and a nata- and held them out towards him. “Which do you prefer? We have our Personae, but you looked exhausted after using yours, so I thought other weapons were appropriate as backup.”

Shiro leaned nervously away from the blades. “Uh… I agree, but swords are a little too much for me…” He bent over, fishing around near his feet, and picked up his red umbrella that he'd brought along. “I figured I could just use this.”

Kuroh narrowed his eyes. “...An umbrella? Really?” At Shiro's pleading face, he sighed and shook his head. “Well, don't blame me if you get killed because you tried lightly pummeling a Shadow into submission instead of just stabbing it.” He stuffed the nata in his bag and looked down at the katana in his hand. “Well, that leaves the katana for me. Like I said, I'm trained in sword fighting, so…”

As Kuroh went on, demonstrating various positions and jabs with the sword, Shiro looked around the cafeteria, and after a few seconds his eyes widened in fright. “Ku-Kuroh… hey, put tha-”

Before Shiro could fully warn his friend, a patrolman had come up behind him and gripped his shoulder tight, making Kuroh grunt in surprise. “What do you think you're doing!?” he demanded, then shouted into his radio, “Request for backup! Two suspicious young men found, one armed… I'll need help taking them to the station.”

“Wait, officer, we're innocent, I swear!” Shiro protested before Kuroh shot him a  _ please don't make this worse than it already is  _ look. He sighed in defeat as the handcuffs clicked around his wrists.

 

It seemed like days later that Mikoto stood before Shiro and Kuroh, giving a vaguely disappointed look as the three of them stood in the hallway of the station. “I had you pegged as a goody two shoes,” he said eventually to Shiro. “Now, Yatogami I could see, but…”

While Kuroh gave an offended huff at Mikoto's remark, Shiro shook his head vigorously. “It was all a big misunderstanding, I promise,” he said, but he still felt somehow ashamed.  _ Not that it's my fault in the first place…  _ “I swear it won't happen again.”

Mikoto breathed a heavy sigh, then, thankfully, took his intense gaze off of Shiro. “... As long as it doesn't, then I suppose it's alright. I had more than enough favors to call in, so you were lucky you had me.”

Kuroh bowed deeply, hair hanging in front of his face as he all but shouted, “Thank you, Suoh-san!” It appeared, thank God, that he'd realized how reckless he'd been. “Like Shiro said… it won't happen a second time.”

“Stand up,” Mikoto ordered, and Kuroh obeyed, looking almost a bit embarrassed. “Just be smarter from now on, understood? Whole town's on edge. The investigation is…”

Mikoto was still talking, but Shiro's attention drifted away when two officers walked by, talking quietly amongst themselves. He didn't hear most of their conversation, but what he could make out shocked- but didn't surprise- him. “Wait, so the one who disappeared is Saruhiko Fushimi?” “He could have run away from home…”

Shiro looked at Mikoto again, blurting, “Sorry, I just remembered, we gotta go! See you tonight!” As Mikoto watched them, looking irritated, Shiro grabbed Kuroh by the wrist and started to lead him towards the lobby, itching to get back to Junes. Kuroh must have heard, too, because he complied, and they hurried down the hall together.

Before they could get very far, though, a slightly familiar man with fluffy black hair stopped them, smiling in greeting. “Hello there. ...Are you the one staying with Suoh-san?”

“Ah, yeah,” Shiro said, and was about to keep walking when an idea came to him.  _ He seems nice enough, so… _ “Can I ask you something? Did something happen to Saru- um, Fushimi-kun?” 

In an oddly open manner, the man- Shiro recognized him now as Nagare, Mikoto's associate- answered, “Yes… we received an anonymous tip last night, and when we investigated, the Fushimis confirmed that their son hadn't been seen recently, and that he may have disappeared.”

Kuroh frowned, glancing at Shiro. “An anonymous tip? You don't think…?”

Shiro nodded. “Yata? It very well could be.”

Nagare cleared his throat, and the two of them looked back at him, cocking their heads. “You two wouldn't happen to know if he was going through a hard time, would you?”

“A hard time?” Shiro thought for a moment.  _ He did sort of look troubled during the interview, but…  _ “Why?”

“He might have run away,” Nagare replied, “and of course, running away just after a double homicide…”

Kuroh scoffed, taken aback. “What, you don't mean… I don't know where you're getting your information from, but Fushimi is  _ not  _ a killer. What sort of reasoning is that, anyway?”

Shiro put a hand on Kuroh's arm, a silent way of telling him not to snap at the police, for the love of God, we don't need to be in more trouble, and said to Nagare, “I think everything's okay-”  _ What a lie-  _ “so… just… keep looking for him?”

Nagare smiled again, seemingly unphased, and nodded. “Just think on it for a bit.” With that said, he went on his way again, leaving Shiro and Kuroh a bit bewildered.

 

A certain shouty redhead was waiting in the lobby when the two of them entered, and at the sight of them, he jumped out of his seat and strode over, quickly and almost angrily. “There you are!” he yelped, and was immediately hushed by the man at the front desk. “Sorry, sorry… Anyway, I've been looking everywhere for you! What're you doing here?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Kuroh muttered, looking down at his feet. “Anyhow… about Fushimi…”

Yata nodded urgently. “He went missing last night… I called and called, but he wouldn't pick up. I think-” he lowered his voice- “I think he's in the TV.”

“Probably,” Shiro agreed. “But there's more. The cops… I think they think that Saruhiko had something to do with… you know.” Just saying it made him frustrated.  _ What kind of 16 year old would kill two people!? I know he's not the friendliest guy, but still… _

“It's because he ran away just after those murders,” Kuroh said, “as if that makes any sense whatsoever.”

“But I'm sure if we rescue him, they can talk to him and clear things up… right?” Shiro asked. “So let's go get him! ...Wait, but Yata, will you be okay in there?”

Yata scoffed. “Who cares? Saru's my best friend; of course I'm going. And you said yesterday that I could go in the TV, too!”

“You're still going on about that…?” Kuroh muttered. “You'll have to be armed. The Shadows are dangerous… believe me. You won't get by on willpower alone.” He groaned, remembering about what'd happened earlier. “If our swords hasn't been confiscated…”

“Junes has bats, right?” Yata grabbed his wallet and took out a few bills to show them. “Maybe I don't have a Persona like you two, but I have enough upper body strength to help at least a little.” Putting his cash away again, he headed for the door. “Come on! We don't have all day.”

 

The sports department of Junes was mostly populated by intimidating, muscle-bound people, making Shiro feel a bit insecure about his slight stature. As Yata looked over the various baseball bats, stuck between a sleek but expensive metal one and a traditional wooden one, Shiro watched him anxiously. “You know, Yata…”

“What?” Yata replied, not looking away from the rack of bats. He picked up the metal one again, feeling the weight, then grabbed the wooden one and compared them.

“I still don't think you should come in there with us,” Kuroh answered for Shiro. “I understand how you feel, but-”

This time Yata did turn around, dropping his arms to his side and clenching his fists around the handles of the bats. “What do  _ you  _ know about how I feel!?” he snapped, earning a few awkward glances from the aforementioned athletes. Yata's expression was a blend of anger and hurt as he continued, “Saru’s my best friend… he could die in there, for fuck’s sake!” His voice softened a bit, and he looked away again. “I can't let two people he hardly even knows rescue him like… like knights in shining armor while I sit there doing nothing.”

“Yata, we just want to protect you,” Shiro said gently. “This is serious. You don't know how dangerous it is in there.”

“Of course I don't know,” Yata protested, “but I'm going, and that's that, okay?” He turned around again for a moment to put the wooden bat back on the rack, then slung the metal one over his shoulder and faced Kuroh and Shiro. “Any more complaining? Or am I tough enough for you now?”

Giving up, Kuroh sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “Fine. If you have that, then you might be okay.” He looked to Shiro. “And you have your…  _ umbrella.”  _ There was still skepticism in his voice.

Shiro nodded determinedly. “Trust me, alright? I've got Izanagi up my sleeve anyway.” He blinked, then frowned, realizing something. “But

… your katana got taken.”

Kuroh's face fell as he remembered, and he uttered a soft 'oh.’ “...I may just have to depend on Cu Chulainn for now. ...Damn, I spent all my money on those swords…” He couldn't think about it very long before his attention turned to Yata. “Wh- Are you just stealing that!?”

Yata, who was walking toward the electronics department, turned around and shrugged. “Hey, it's technically staying in the store, right?”


	10. Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may be a haunted house, but at least it's free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and edited this in one day, so, cool.  
> Also! I figure I should give a shout-out to my boyfriend (Nagaki on here, I believe) for always helping me out when I get stuck even though he doesn't play Persona. You might never read this, but thank you!

“Whoa. So it  _ is  _ that cat from last time,” Yata murmured.

He and Kuroh watched from the sidelines at Neko bounced around Shiro, who chuckled and pat her head until she calmed down. Kuroh nodded. “As you can tell, she's less hostile than when you first met her… thankfully.”

Yata stuck his hands in his pockets and gave a low whistle. “Looks like Shiro's got a girlfriend. You jealous, Kuroinu?” he joked, smirking at Kuroh, who groaned, annoyed.

Before his friends could say anything else, the boy in question turned to face them, beckoning them with one hand. “Hey, Neko's got some info on Saruhiko. C'mon over!”

Yata breathed a sigh of relief and jogged over to the center of the platform to meet them, Kuroh coming to a stop shortly behind him. “Whatcha got, Neko? He's still okay, right? ...Right?”

Neko made a noncommittal noise. “Uh, I dunno… but however he is, he's still here, neko.” She shuffled her feet, seeming almost ashamed. “It was just after you left yesterday, neko…”

“So we just missed him…” Yata swore under his breath. “Shit. Alright. Well, where is he?” Heated anxiety found its way into his voice again, and he tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh.

“Neko said it's this way,” Shiro answered, and he and the girl pointed off to their left, deeper into the backside of the TV. “Are we ready?” He smiled, determined, as Yata slung his baseball bat over his shoulder and Kuroh looked down at his empty hands and sighed. “Alright then, c'mon. We've got a lot of work ahead of us.”

 

The place they ended up at was, frankly, much more creepily impressive than the dusty, decrepit duplicate of Tatara's house that Shiro had been at the other day. It wasn't a house so much as a mansion, rising tall into the red and black sky, sides painted black, with dark, haunting windows. Hulking statues that Shiro recognized as snarling, vicious-looking monkeys lined the pathway that had formed leading up to the thoroughly uninviting portal where the front door should have been.

Yata narrowed his eyes, grimacing as he surveyed the building. “This place… does this look familiar?”

Now that he thought about it, Shiro realized that it did. He'd been so focused on Saruhiko himself that he didn't pay attention to the background, but he  _ had  _ been in front of a mansion, right? “Actually, I think you're right,” he said quietly. “So he really is in there…”

“My nose never lies, neko!” Neko boasted.

“Neko… you're absolutely positive nobody's filming the show? There are no cameras?” Kuroh asked, turning to the cat.

“'That show’? No… but maybe people from your guys’ world can see stuff here, neko,” the girl replied. “It’s just me and Shadows here, no cameras, neko.”

“The first time Saruhiko showed up on the Midnight Channel, he wasn't in here yet, though,” Shiro reminded them. “So if we're really just seeing into this place, then that doesn't make sense.”

_ “Nothing  _ here makes sense,” Yata muttered. “I mean… Saru's kind of a dark guy, don't get me wrong, but last night's program was a lot even for him.”

Kuroh frowned, thinking hard. “Maybe… maybe it's like what happened to me. That 'Kuroh’, he didn't sound anything like me.”

They all breathed out a collective sigh, apparently all coming to the same conclusion: they had no idea what was going on- not yet, anyway. “All I know is that this Saruhiko guy is in there, neko,” Neko said.

Yata cast his gaze up to the towering mansion. “Saruhiko’s in there, huh?” he repeated. “To Hell with this, I'm going on ahead…!” Shoes pounding against gravel, he took off without another word, leaving the others in the dust.

“Yata, wait!” Kuroh shouted, reaching out a hand, but he was too far gone, light enveloping him as he ran into the building. “Shiro…”

“Let's go,” Shiro agreed, umbrella gripped tight in his hand. “Come on!”

 

The halls of the mansion spread like a labyrinth before them, lit only by candles affixed to the walls. Shiro's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and he blinked a few times before turning to Neko. “This… seems dangerous,” he said simply.

“There are Shadows here, neko,” Neko warned him. “And they're going to be  _ really  _ angry… they've been acting so weird lately, neko.” She made a low grumbling noise, a scared sort of purr.

Kuroh sighed, jaw clenched tight, then said, “We don't have any choice but to fight them. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't want Yata to be in danger…”

Despite the chilling atmosphere, Shiro giggled. “Aw, Kuroh's got a cute side, too!” 

Kuroh almost,  _ almost  _ blushed as Shiro and Neko’s laughter echoed in the dark hallways. “Oh- just-  _ quiet, you two!” _

 

Neko was right- there certainly were Shadows lurking in, well, the shadows. Shiro heard them, slithering, plasmatic bodies sliding wetly against the floor. It sent shivers down his spine, and more than once or twice he found himself thinking,  _ Creepy… _ It wasn't too long into their trek, though, that the Shadows didn't just stay out of sight.

The three of them were treading carefully down one of the corridors when Shiro heard a gasp from Kuroh and was promptly shoved to the side, landing painfully on the floor. “Ow, what the…?” Almost immediately, a Shadow lunged for the spot Shiro had just been in, coming from behind in a sneak attack. Shiro readied his umbrella, ready to attack the monster that had now trained its sights on him, but before he could strike, a bright bluish light lit up the hallway.

A gust of wind pummeled the shrieking Shadow, and Shiro looked up to see Cuu Chulainn hovering above the three of them, spear pointed towards the creature on the ground. His eyes flicked to Kuroh, who, upon noticing him, rushed to his side. “Shiro-”

“Nonono, Kuroh, look out!” It was Shiro who pushed Kuroh away this time as the Shadow, recovering from the attack, slid shakily towards them again. Shiro was prepared; he swung his umbrella down onto the sludge-like monster's head- if it could even be called that- and it flinched, whining, giving Kuroh enough time to summon his Persona again. The next wave of whirling wind was enough to kill the creature, blasting it into a cloud of red and black fog.

The two of them sat on the floor for a moment, both breathing quick- Kuroh from exertion, Shiro from pure shock- before Shiro looked at Kuroh and grinned. “Whoa, Kuroh! You saved me!”

“Given that you're essentially our leader, I wasn't about to let you get killed,” Kuroh replied, standing up again. He reached out his hand to Shiro, who took it, clasping it in his. “I guess we make a good team.”

 

It went like that for a while- well, of course, it wasn't Kuroh heroically saving Shiro every time, but the killing Shadows part- until Shiro asked, “...Hey, Kuroh…?”

Kuroh glanced over at Shiro, then back at the gloomy path in front of them. “What is it?”

“Um, don't you feel like this area is familiar?” Shiro said, voice barely above a whisper. “And like… a lot of other areas, too?”

Kuroh stopped in his tracks. “...Have we been going in circles?”

“A-actually,” Neko piped up on Shiro's other side, “we have been for about fifteen minutes. I thought you were doing it on purpose, neko…”

After a few moments of Kuroh snapping at Neko with what seemed to be the most exasperation yet, the trio continued on.

 

Shiro had never been more excited to see stairs in his entire life, which makes sense, because in 99% of all situations, there's no reason to be glad for stairs. In any case, the sight of them was a blessing when, having accepted that Yata was no longer on the first floor of Saruhiko's otherworldly mansion, Shiro, Kuroh, and Neko instead switched their goal go finding their way to the next floor up. Finally, after searching high and low, they'd found them in a small room tucked away far from the entrance.As the three of them took their first step onto the staircase, the candles attached to the outsides of the railings began to burn a deep, oddly chilling blue. Shiro looked to Kuroh, then back to the flames. “...Alright then,” he mumbled.  _ That seems like an omen of some sort. _

The room they arrived in was enormous, with plush carpeting, elaborate carvings in the walls, and a chandelier hanging down from the domed ceiling. Shiro's eyes swept around the room, and he could hear a hushed “Impressive.” from beside him. He took a step forward, and the chandelier burst into light, enough candles to make the room look almost as bright as day, illuminating the two figures standing in the center of the room.

A choked, angry cry rang out in the air. “You're not  _ me!” _


End file.
